The Curb
by Jonesn
Summary: Bella's night doesn't go as planned when she forgets an address and stumbles upon an injured stranger instead. AH
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** The author does not own any publicly recognizable entities herein. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Betad by kitchmill. mistakes my own.

Preread by Hoodie

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Hayyyyy

Got another one for ya.

I actually wrote this for the Straight Thru the Heart contest way back when. Hood judged and actually picked it. No, we did not cheat lol

It was thee worst month of my life, not being able to talk to her about it. And she was pissed cause she thought I didn't enter :D

Anyway, I'm turning it into another drabble cause I want to write something and nothing else is coming to me.

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 _Ten ... Nine ... Eight …"_

The muffled voices of people counting from behind their doors keep me company as I move quickly down the street. My heels click against the sidewalk, echoing footsteps from behind me, and I turn to make sure no one is following me. Not that I can tell since half the block is made up of busted street lights.

"Did she say twenty-six or twenty-eight?" I ask no one in particular because no one's there. "No, wait. It was thirty-two, wasn't it? Hell. I don't know."

My phone died right around the time I hit the corner of Chestnut and High. I wish I were high when another gust of cold wind flies up my skirt. Shivering, I cross the street, stopping right in the middle of the road when a moan comes from behind one of the parked cars.

"Hello? Is someone there?" Another moan. "Look, if you're planning on attacking me, I'd advise against it." Looking side to side, I noisily dig around in my purse. "I've got a new can of pepper spray and I'm not afraid to use it." Key point being that it's new.

Another moan comes out of the darkness before cheers erupt from inside the surrounding warm houses. I creep closer to look around the back of the car where I find a man sitting on the curb, his head in his hands.

"Hey, are you okay?"

With my finger firmly in place on the pepper spray, I move closer until I'm standing right beside the guy.

"Excuse me. Hey …" I reach down and touch his shoulder, and he jerks away, looking up at me in fear.

"Oh, wow." I automatically cringe, unable to help it when I see the condition of the guy's face. He's obviously been in a fight by the looks of that busted lip. His eyes are swollen shut. But what really worries me is the bloody gash on his forehead.

"Dude, that looks pretty bad. We should probably get you to a hospital."

He shakes his head and mumbles something unintelligible. I pull out my phone, forgetting it's dead, and roll my eyes.

"Look, buddy, I can't just leave you here. It's cold and you're bleeding. Not to mention, you can't see." Mumbling something again, he looks up at me and I think I see a twinkle of green. "Uh huh, sure. Just please, tell me you have a phone. Mine's dead and I can't in good conscience leave you here. I just can't. So, come on." I hold out my hand. "Hand it over."

After a second, he reluctantly does as I say and I call an ambulance. Sitting down beside him, I quickly give up on having a conversation since I can't understand anything he says anyway. Instead I opt to look him over from copper-colored head to converse-covered toe. His hairline and the front of his shirt are caked in blood. His face is covered in bruises, but I can tell he had once been good-looking and probably will be again, which makes me feel a little less bad for him.

I stare at my shoes for the remainder of the wait, which seems to take forever. A few people peek out windows when the ambulance finally arrives, unnecessarily blaring its siren.

Standing, I brush off my backside before bending in an attempt to help up my helpless victim. Unable to really see me, he stands quicker, causing his shoulder to bump my nose. For a moment I'm overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne until he mumbles what I think is an apology.

"It's no problem. I'm fine."

Balancing on my shoulder, he digs around in his back pocket and pulls out his wallet to hand to the responder.

 _Why didn't I think of that?_

The responder sifts through his wallet, pulls out an I. D. and reads it aloud.

"Edward Anthony Masen."


	2. Chapter 2

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

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Aiming for 1k words a chap at least. Wish me luck.

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"Edward Anthony Masen of two forty-five Second Street. Is that you?" the responder asks.

The maimed guy who looks nothing like an Edward nods.

"Do you know who did this to you, buddy?"

He hesitates but eventually shakes his head.

"All right, then. Here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna help you up into the ambulance and we're gonna take a ride to the hospital. You're safe. You're in good hands now. Who's this here with you?" the responder asks, pausing for my name.

"Bella. Bella Swan."

"Girlfriend?"

I scoff.

As if.

"No, I'm not his girlfriend. I'm just the one who found him." Unfortunately. "I called 911."

"All right. Well, thank you for looking out until we could get here. I'm sure our friend here appreciates it." He gestures to the guy who doesn't look like an Edward and is definitely not my friend. "Are you injured? Will you be needing a ride from us?"

"Oh God, no. I—"

Edward's hand shoots out to wrap around my wrist.

"Uh …"

"Come on, miss. It's decision time. We gotta get going here," the responder pressures me. I look down the darkened street, weighing my options before finally deciding hitching a ride with the medics is the safer choice.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"All right, then. Let's get this party started. Marcus, you're driving." He nods to his partner. "Edward. Bella. You're in the back with me.

Edward lets go so the responder can help him in the ambulance. I climb in behind them. When I sit down beside the cot, Edward reaches for me again and I take his hand.

"It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." I surprise myself by reassuring him with my eternal presence. But my words seem to work and he relaxes somewhat, tensing up whenever the tires hit a particularly bumpy part of the road. I can only imagine how bad the ride is for him when he quietly grunts, squeezing my hand tighter. We're fused at the palm by the time we reach the hospital.

It takes all I have to keep up with the cot as it rolls through the ER doors and down the hall. Before long the nurse has him hooked up to the machines. Once she cleans him up, his wounds don't look as bad as they had before. I'm handed some ice packs that I help hold against Edward's face before the doctor strolls through the door.

"What seems to be the problem, folks?"

As if it's not obvious, I explain how it all went down while simultaneously shushing the mumbles coming from underneath the ice packs.

After poking and prodding all over Edward's poor mangled body, the doctor orders some tests and pain medication, which the stubborn patient refuses with a brush of his hand.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" the nurse asks, and Edward shakes his head.

Once she excuses herself, I try to talk some sense into him. "You know there's no shame in taking some pain medication if you need it. If you're afraid it'll make you look weak, don't be. That shit looks painful." I scrunch my nose at his bruised profile.

Ignoring me, Edward places a fresh ice pack over his face, and I take a seat, chalking it all up to that inherited male stubbornness.

Fine. Whatever. Be in pain then. See if I care.

I almost wish they'd offer me something for the pain of having to sit in this hard, plastic chair for hours on end. I cross and uncross my legs, waiting just to wait some more, while Edward's wheeled out then back in just to be wheeled out again. Without the distraction of a phone, everything seems to take so long. I almost forget why I'm there until Edward's rolled back in, the doctor following right behind him.

"Well, there's no internal bleeding, no broken bones. So, that's good."

Edward pulls the ice pack away, and my eyes go wide at the improvement in his features. He's still bruised and bloody but I can make out the sharp outline of his jaw and the slender slope of his nose. I was right. His eyes are green.

"The swelling's gone down pretty significantly thanks to the ice packs; no stitches necessary. I think you're gonna live." The doctor tucks his clipboard under his arm. "With that being said, I still don't want you sleeping for the next twenty-four hours. Call me old school. But I like to play it safe, yeah?" He pauses, waiting for one of us to respond, though neither of us do. "Now, is there someone you can stay with who will keep an eye on you overnight?"

The doctor looks at me and I in turn look at Edward, who looks down at his lap. He briefly closes his eyes before looking back up again.

"Nah. I'm sure I'll survive," Edward says, his speech somewhat intelligible. "I can stay up on my own. No problem. Do it all the time."

A crease in his brow, the doctor straightens. "I don't know how comfortable I am with that. I really think you should stay with someone. If you'd like I could admit you overnight."

"No," Edward's quick to answer. I doubt there's all that much significant brain damage. Yeah, he'll be fine. With a hard head like his, I'm sure of it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Masen, but I can't in good conscience let you go without someone to stay with. I just can't." The doctor repeats my words from earlier in the evening and Edward looks at me out of the side of his eye.

"Oh, no. Huh uh." I simultaneously shake my head and wave the idea away with a sassy finger.

"What? You heard the doc. Only twenty-four hours and I'll be out of your pretty brown hair." He reaches up to flick a curled end and my mouth drops.

He cannot be serious.


	3. Chapter 3

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

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I'm Trying to pace myself but iI just can't fucking do it!

Enjoy!

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"You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack. Which I didn't have, right, doc?" Edward asks, and the doctor shakes his head.

"Nope. No heart attack. But give it time." The doctor eyes me before backing his way out of the room. "How 'bout I give you two love birds a couple minutes to discuss this?"

"We're not love birds," I say, but he ignores me, pulling the curtain shut behind him.

"Happy now?" I ask Edward once we're alone.

"Well, yeah. I kinda am."

"Uh huh." Nodding, I fold my arms and click my tongue. "Right. Now the whole hospital's going to think we're together."

Edward shrugs. "And that's such a bad thing?"

I squint at him. "Are you kidding me right now? You really expect me to take a stranger to my house and show him where I live?"

He shrugs again. "Why not? Could be fun."

"Fun?" I repeat, doubtful.

"Yeah, fun."

"I don't even know you."

"You can't have fun with people you don't know?"

The more he runs his yap, the more I miss the unintelligible mumbles.

"What if you're just some punk? A serial killer. How do I know you didn't deserve this?" I point to his face. They left his wallet, after all. It had to be personal.

"Love muffin, please." He reaches for me and I swat his hand away.

"Shut up. Don't call me that."

The nurse chooses that moment to come in and take a set of vitals, and we both go silent until she leaves.

Licking his plump, busted lip, Edward leans in closer to whisper under his breath. "Look, I'm not just some punk, okay? I'm not going to kill you."

"But you've killed?"

"What? No! I've never killed anybody. Never would. And I for damn sure didn't deserve this." He points to his face.

I give him a look that says I don't believe him.

"Okay, maybe a little," he finally confesses.

I knew it.

"But that's beside the point."

"Mm-hm."

Exasperated, he palms his face with both hands then immediately regrets it. "Fuck. Look, I can't afford to stay here overnight. Can't afford the bill I'm already gonna get. So, either you take me home or say you're going to and we'll part ways and maybe I won't die." Edward gives me a subtle guilt trip, leaning away just as the doctor walks back in.

"You two love birds decide anything yet?"

Edward and I look at each other, and I sigh. "Yeah. I suppose I can do it. But just so he doesn't die. And we're not love birds," I add again for good measure. But the doctor continues to ignore me.

"Great. I'll get the papers together so you guys can get out of here then. Sound good?"

I give him a tight smile. "Sounds great."

Edward and I don't talk while we wait. I offer to wheel him out front, making sure to knock him into a couple walls before we make it outside.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he asks when I swipe the phone off his lap.

"Calling a cab. What's it look like?"

He tells me to order him a pizza in the background as I dial. I ignore him, handing him his phone back when I'm done.

The taxi seems to take even longer than the ambulance. I pace as Edward watches me like a human tennis ball.

"Jesus, it's freezing. Why is it so cold?" I wrap my arms around myself.

"Uh, because it's January in Chicago? Come over here." He waves me over. "I'll warm you up."

I stop long enough to scowl at him.

He holds his hands up as if to say "well, nevermind, then," and I continue to pace until the taxi finally shows up.

Even though I kind of want to leave him there, I open the back door then turn back to face him. "Are you coming or what?"

It takes him a few seconds to comprehend what I'm saying before he's out of the chair to climb in behind me. I interrupt his directions and tell the cabbie to head to my place instead.

"Really? You sure?"

"No. But I can't very well let you go home to die alone now, can I?" I glance at him briefly before looking back out the window. "You just better not be a serial killer."

We ride the rest of the way in silence. Every now and then I get the feeling I'm being watched. But the few times I peek over, he's staring out his window.

When we finally pull up to the apartment complex we get back into it, fighting over who's going to pay the fare.

Edward wins when he tosses a handful of cash up front and scoots out of the backseat.

He offers me his hand. I wave it away, motioning for him to move so I can get out.

"So, this is your place, huh?" he asks as he closely follows me up to the entrance.

"Uh, yeah. Me and all the other hundred or so tenants."

"It's nice."

I hide the keypad with my body to type in the code so he can't see to break in later and steal all of our nice stuff.

He continues to follow me to the elevator like the irritating little stray he is. We stare at each other from opposite sides of the elevator. My gaze annoyed. His amused.

"So, what's your story? How are you able to afford this place? Keypad. Awning out front." He gestures with a slight jerk of his head.

"Most apartments in Chicago don't have awnings or keypads?" I try and divert. It doesn't work.

He slowly shakes his head. "What is it you do?" he continues to push.

I shouldn't be surprised by his aggressive nosiness, but I am. It's as if he's trying to turn our unfortunate situation into a date or something.

"I go to school."

"So, you don't work," he insinuates, like he knows my life. It kind of pisses me off.

"What makes you think I don't work?"

"Nothing. Sorry. So, you do work then?"

"Of course I do. It's how I pay for such a nice place." I mock his words by gesturing around the elevator. I leave the fact that my dad pays half the rent to myself.

"Where do you work? Maybe I know it."

Doubtful.

I quietly sigh. "Jas Glass on Clark."

He thinks about it for a minute. "Oh—uh, that new little trinket place, right?"

A small smile threatens to spread across my face, but I bite it back. The owner, Jasper, hates it when people refer to his work as trinkets.

"It's not a trinket place. It's a studio where you can purchase intricate and original pieces of blown glass."

"Exactly, trinkets," Edward repeats.

I gum my lips, hating myself for selling out my boss so easily. "Yeah. I guess you can call them that."

A quirk in his brow, Edward looks extremely pleased now that I've finally agreed with him on something.

"Now that you know everything about me, it's only fair you tell me a little bit about you. What is it _you_ do?" I ask right as the elevator door dings then slides open.

We both look out into the hall then back at each other before I step out. Edward follows me while I dig around in my purse for the key.

Even though I'm growing slightly more comfortable with the thought of inviting this guy into my home, I hesitate at the door before unlocking it because this is it. There's no turning back once I turn this key and let a complete stranger who could or could not be a serial killer into my apartment.

He better not make me regret this.

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Question. Would you let him stay with you if his name was James?

;)


	4. Chapter 4

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

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You guys are funny.

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Pushing the door open, I step inside and hang up the keys. I shrug off my coat and hang it on the hook on the back of the door before bracing myself to be a gracious hostess to my guest. "Can I get you something to drink? There's water, juice, soda, tea," I say as I lock the door.

"So many choices."

"Yeah, well I like to keep my options open. So, what'll it be?"

He opts for tea, and I pour him a glass. Setting it down on the counter, I scoot it in front of him.

"I'm hungry. You hungry?" Edward asks.

I force a mouthful of tea down. "Starving."

"You got any butter, bread, cheese? I can whip us up some of my mediocre grilled cheeses."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. It's the least I can do for you letting me stay here. Where do you keep the pans and I'll get started." Edward rounds the bar into the kitchen.

I point to the cupboard with the pots and pans before gathering the rest of the supplies.

"You go sit and watch the magic happen," Edward orders, and even though I've never taken kindly to being bossed around, I gladly do as he says since he's cooking for me. Maybe bringing him home wasn't such a bad idea.

"So, Bella Swan, is it?"

I'm surprised he remembers.

"Yep. And you're Edward Anthony Masen."

"Sure am." Licking some butter off his finger, Edward grabs another piece of bread. "You got a middle name?"

"Doesn't everybody?"

Edward shrugs one shoulder. "I don't know. I don't know everybody and I'm not trying to. Just you." He points over his shoulder with the knife.

I'm not sure if my reaction is flattery or fear from being addressed with a sharp object.

"Well, if you absolutely must know."

"Oh, I absolutely must."

I silently sigh.

"It's Marie. And my real name is Isabella," I blabber for some reason, giving him more information than he really needs. "But, everybody calls me Bella for short. You got a nickname? Something not as proper as Edward?"

"Not really." He drops a piece of buttered bread on the pan and it sizzles. "My grandma used to call me her little Eddiekins." I smile at his backside. "And my brother, he sometimes calls me Eddie. But that's only when he actually takes the time to call."

"He doesn't live around here?"

"Nope. Denver."

"Colorado?"

"That's the one."

"Wow, that's far. You got family there or something?"

He shakes his head.

"He move there for a girl?"

"Uh … you could say that."

I give his back a confused look. "I could?"

Chuckling, he scratches his chin on his shoulder then shrugs. "Yeah, Mary. Mary from Colorado."

It takes me long enough, but I eventually start to catch on. "Ah. I get it. You mean Mary Jane."

Edward turns to me, feigning surprise. "You know her?"

I quirk my brow and smile. "Not personally. But I've heard good things."

He nods. "Yeah. She is pretty smokin'."

I shake my head at his lame joke, laughing to myself when he turns away to flip the sandwich.

"Speaking of which, I should probably burn this shirt. Unless you have a secret to getting out blood stains."

"No, but I can try." Sliding off the stool, I disappear into my room and bring out an oversized T-shirt for him to wear. "Here, you can wear this while I try and wash yours. But no promises."

After tossing the spatula on the counter, Edward pulls his shirt over his head and I momentarily forget how to swallow. He's more muscular than his shirt had let on. But that's not what ultimately catches my attention. His skin is nearly as light as mine, decorated with a scattering of bruises in all different stages of healing over his ribs. I don't get all that long of a look before he grabs the shirt out of my hand and pulls it on over his head.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask.

"Shoot."

"Why were you left out on the street like that? Who jumped you? Why did they jump you?"

"Good question. Now, can I ask you one?"

I cross my arms over my chest, more than annoyed he didn't answer me. "I guess."

"What was a girl like you doing out in the middle of a neighborhood like that alone?"

"A girl like me?"

"Yeah. Nice, clean." Turning his head, he looks me up and down. His gaze stops on my hips then raises to my eyes. I hold his stare until he looks away. "The kind who carries a can of pepper spray around and announces it."

After flipping the grilled cheese over once more to check it, he tosses it onto a plate. He cuts it at an angle and hands me half.

"Well, if you must know, I was heading to a party. I couldn't remember the address so I had the cab driver drop me off on the nearest block so he could get home to celebrate New Years with his wife and kid. No big deal." I shrug and take a bite of my sandwich. It really hits the spot. "So, what about you? What's your story?"

"I have no story."

"Everybody has a story."

"Not me."

"Yeah, okay." I take another bite before tossing the crust in the trash. "Thanks for the sandwich," I force out instead of a rebuttal. I refuse to get into another fight with him.

"No problem. Hope you liked it."

"It was very tasty." It nearly kills me not to threaten him with some sort of additional bodily harm, but I refrain by heading out of the kitchen.

After I show him around, I leave him alone for a minute to soak his shirt in the washer. When I get back, he's lying on the couch with his eyes closed.

"Hey! Get up. Come on." I snap my fingers in his face and his eyes open.

"I was just testing you." Yawning, he sits up. "Congratulations, you passed."

Scooting between his knees and the coffee table, I take a seat beside him, instantly feeling how tired I really am, too. "All right. So, what are we gonna do? We got a lot of time to kill and I don't think I can make it through a movie."

"Yeah, me either."

We stare at the blank TV while we think of what to do in order to keep ourselves awake.

"I've got some board games, but they're all missing pieces." I scrunch my nose.

"How 'bout PlayStation or Xbox?"

"Nope. No game stations. Sorry."

Edward shrugs. "I guess we could always take turns doing each other's nails."

"For real?"

"No."

I give him a look then flick off my shoes. "Well, I'm gonna go change real quick." Standing, I point at him. "I better not catch you sleeping again when I get back."

Edward holds up his hands, and I disappear into the bedroom, sure to lock the door before I get naked. Putting on my flannel top, I button every single button then pull on the bottoms because I have company. Since I'm not trying to impress him, my hair goes up in its usual messy bun. However, I do forgo my penguin slippers. If I have to be stuck with this guy the rest of the night there's no way I'm giving him any extra ammunition.

He's still awake when I return to the living room and plop down on the opposite end of the couch.

"Nice jammies."

"Thanks."

"What are those? Penguins?" He leans over to rub a piece of the fabric between his fingers.

"Yeah. Why? You got a problem with penguins?"

"No. Not at all. I actually think they're kinda cute. Like you."

A crease in my brow, I give him an unsure smile. "Are you hitting on me right now? Is that what's happening? Do I need to take you back to the hospital?"

"Hell no. And, I would _never_ hit on an attractive girl I was stuck with all night. What kind of guy would that make me?"

"Oh, so now you're stuck with me?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

We go silent again and stare at the blank TV before I finally give up and turn it on. I flip through the channels a few times before settling on some home makeover show.

"Happy New Year, by the way," I say, remembering neither one of us really got to celebrate.

"Yeah. It's been a real great start so far."

"Meh, I've had worse."

"Really?" Edward turns to face me. "Well, don't hold out on me. Let's hear it."

I regard him with a squint before pulling my legs in and turning to face him, too. "Okay. But if I do, you have to tell me something about you."

He squints back, briefly thinking about it. "Fine. Now spill."

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OK, what if it was James Franco? He's probably the least creepy James I've known. And he's cute and charming...


	5. Chapter 5

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

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In my defense, I did say James Franco was the LEAST creepy, although still creepy … In a cute way :D And no, I don't know him personally lol

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"Okay. Well, three years ago I went to my first real New Year's party and this girl spilled her cranberry cocktail all down the front of my white top." He looks at me unimpressed and I hold up a finger. "Have you tried to get cranberry stain out of white satin before?"

He slowly shakes his head. "Can't say that I have."

"Then you don't get an opinion."

I ended up having to throw that shirt away.

"So, that's it? Challenging stain removal is the worst you got?"

"No." I've got more. One more to be exact. Since I don't get out all that much.

"Well, let's hear it. And it better be shocking."

I consider taking his route and dodging the question. "I don't know if I want to tell you now."

"You have to."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do."

"Do not."

"Do."

We stare at each other in a silent standoff. My nostrils flare.

"Not if you're going to make fun of me."

"I won't make fun of you."

"Yes you will."

"I would never."

"You just did!"

He leans back against the armrest and waits. I know if I don't cooperate I won't get any reciprocation.

"Fine." I suck it up by sticking my flared nostrils in the air. "Last year my friend Lauren puked in my shoe."

His brow quirks.

"I was pulling chunks out of it for a month." My hands go up in exasperation. What else could he want from me?

"Really? That's it? That's the worst you've had it? Stains and some puke?"

"Hey, my struggles may not be as life-threatening as yours, but not getting anything on me is nothing short of a miracle, n'kay? Besides, I prefer being boring and predictable. It's who I am."

"Who said you were boring and predictable?"

"No one. But I know what you're thinking."

"Oh, you do?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, this should be fun." Stretching his neck from side to side, he cracks his knuckles. "Okay …" He shakes his hands out and closes his eyes. "What am I thinking?"

"Ha ha. Very funny." I throw the remote at him and he opens his eyes just in time to catch it. "All right, now it's your turn. Who beat you up tonight and why?"

"Nope. Not gonna happen."

I sigh. "Why not? Is it really that bad that you can't tell me?"

"Yes, it's really that bad. Pick something else."

"Okay." I think about it. "Did you grow up around here?"

He nods proudly. "Hyde Park, born and bred."

"So, you _are_ just some punk."

"Pretty much."

We both laugh quietly, letting it die off in a hum.

"How 'bout you? You grow up around here?"

"No. I actually grew up in Miami."

"Florida? You?"

"Yeah, me. What do you think?" Pulling up my sleeve, I rub my arm. "I used to be tan, if you can believe it. This skin isn't a complete lost cause."

"I think you have nice skin."

"Well, thank you."

A silence falls over us again and I mentally tally up all the times he's been nice to me. It's pretty much been the whole time we've known each other. Though, he somehow still seems to drive me crazy.

"So, why are you in Chicago? Miami wasn't exciting enough for you?"

"A little too exciting, actually."

"And what does that mean?"

I shrug my shoulders. "My mom isn't really all that mom-like."

"Ah."

"Yeah. Most of the time it was like she was the kid. I was too afraid she'd try and get me to take her to frat parties or something, so I applied out of state."

"And how'd that go?"

"I'm sure you can imagine." I give him a humorless smile, and he looks at me in a way that he hasn't. A way that makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

"So, what about your mom?" I ask.

"What about her?"

"How is she? Is she a good one or not so much?"

He shrugs a shoulder, looking off in the direction of the TV. "Not so much."

I slowly nod in understanding and look at the TV myself. We watch a few minutes before I feel comfortable enough to start in on him again.

"So, you have a brother, huh? Is that your only sibling?"

"Uh, yeah." He tears his eyes away from the muted show long enough to answer me. "He's the only other one."

"Were you guys close growing up?"

"You could say that. He's older, so I pretty much followed him around everywhere he went."

I smile at his profile. "Aw, that's sweet."

He scoffs. "Yeah, super sweet."

I get the feeling he'd rather not talk about it from the way he shuts down. I can't blame the guy since family life has always brought me down, too.

"Hey, you care if I use your bathroom?" he asks after a few moments.

"Yeah, it's just down the hall, first door on the right if you didn't remember."

He excuses himself with a mumbled thanks. As soon as he disappears behind the door, it swings back open. "You got any neosporin?" He points to his face. "This is starting to dry out and it stings like a bitch."

"Yeah, sure thing." I get up to show him where I keep the first aid supplies then leave him alone to tend to his wounds while I plug in my phone and start cleaning up the kitchen.

I'm drying my hands, reminiscing over how differently my night has gone when my phone chirps with an incoming text.

"Who's that?" Edward asks, startling me when he comes out of nowhere. "Your boyfriend?"

"Uh, no actually. It's my friend, Angela. She was just checking in since I never showed up at the party."

"You tell her about me?"

"God, no."

"Why not? Are you ashamed of us or something?"

I give him an unamused look before turning my attention back to my phone. "If I tell her about you, she'll just say I'm crazy and insist on coming over."

"Is she hot?"

"Excuse me?"

"'Cause if she's hot she should definitely come over so we can get this party started."

A disgusted noise escapes from my throat. "Don't do that."

"What? I'm simply trying to think of ways to pass the time." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he shrugs. "Sounded like a good idea to me."

"You're such a guy."

I send a quick text to Angela letting her know I'm fine and how my phone died before pouring us both another glass of tea and heading back into the living room. Cuddling up on the edge of the couch, I take a sip, nearly spitting it out all over the table when Edward opens his big, guy mouth again.

"Well, since we're not having a threeway tonight, might as well jump back into the interrogation. What's your major?"

Setting my cup of tea down, I clear my throat. "Uh, social service administration with a minor in art history."

"And you decided on one of the most expensive schools to get a social work degree?"

"Hey, _social service administration_ is nothing to scoff at. It's a noble profession. One that pays way more than art history. This way I can explore my artistic side and be able to afford it," I reason smugly. "What about you? Are you going to school?"

"Nah. The college scene isn't really for me."

"Oh well, that's okay. But, can I ask what you do for a living then?"

Stalling, he takes a few big gulps of his tea then clears his throat. "I'm in sales."


	6. Chapter 6

Betad by kitchmill

Maybe preread by Hoodie idk I asked her to read it like 3 times.

* * *

And omg. I totally forgot about James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. Ain't nothing creepy about him. I'd definitely take the winter soldier home in a quickened heartbeat :D

* * *

"And just what is it you sell?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff," I repeat.

"Yeah. I sell stuff. All kinds of stuff. You name it, I sell it."

"Mmhm, okay. Like, say, pencils? You sell pencils?"

"Yep."

"Sweepers?"

Taking a drink, he nods.

"What about gerbils?"

"Are those the furry little things?"

"Yeah, they're the furry little things."

"Then, yeah. Those, too."

Pursing my lips, I nod, believing he sells things, just not those things.

"And was one of those things you sell the reason you got that pretty face of yours messed up tonight?"

"Could be." He finishes off his second serving of tea and sets down the glass. "But, I think we're missing the bigger picture here."

"And what's the bigger picture?"

"That you think my face is pretty."

I give him yet another unamused look, and he returns it with another compliment. "Don't worry. You're pretty, too." He winks and stands, holding his hand out for my glass. "You want some more?"

"No, thanks. I'm good."

I watch him as he leaves the room, perplexed by the way he acts and my own feelings toward him. On one hand, he drives me crazy. On the other, I think I might kind of like it. I might kind of like him. In spite of the three-way comment.

The thought worries me some because I hardly know the guy. And what I do know is riddled and wrapped up with flaming red flags.

"That's the last of it," he says about the tea, coming out of nowhere again. He sits back down on his end of the couch.

More than aware of my budding feelings toward him, my line of sight is drawn to his lips as he drinks his tea. When he swallows, I swallow in appreciation of the way his Adam's apple bobs. And just like that, I'm uncomfortable again.

"So, we talked about your mom but you didn't mention a dad."

"Neither did you," I say, having learned a few things from him.

"No, I didn't."

We sit in silence while he drinks.

"You know, I was only joking," he says once he sets his glass down.

"About what?"

"About what I said earlier. About your friend."

"I know," I say, though I really don't. How would I know what he's into? I hardly know him. Though part of me wants to. A very little part.

"So, what is it you do for fun? You have any hobbies?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Well, when I'm not busy selling gerbils and stuff, I'm typically relaxing at home, playing video games or watching TV. Sometimes I'll pick up a game of basketball with the guys down at the park. Hang out. Whatever. How 'bout you?"

"Uh, school work actually keeps me pretty busy. But when I have some free time, I like to spend it at Jasper's."

"Jasper's, huh?" he says, sounding a little annoyed. Maybe a little jealous.

"Yeah, but it's not like that. He's the glassmith. The one who makes the trinkets," I add. "He lives in this cool makeshift loft of this warehouse where he's teaching me to blow glass."

"So, let me get this straight. Your boss Jasper is teaching you to blow things in your spare time?" he teases. "How does one get that position? I'd like to apply."

Untucking my foot from under me, I kick him in his leg. "Why do you have to make everything so dirty?"

He smirks and tickles the bottom of my foot.

"Stop."

"Being dirty or touching you?"

"Both."

Instead of re-tucking my leg underneath me, I stretch them both out along the back of the couch and prop my head on the armrest, secretly wanting him to keep touching me.

As if he can read my thoughts, he lifts one of my legs to rest it across his lap. All my warmth rushes down low when I realize in a way I'm kind of straddling him.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

In lieu of answering, he slides his hand under the bottom of my pant leg to lightly finger my skin.

I'm torn between not wanting this to happen and wanting it to happen really badly when he sweeps the back of my knee then pulls his hand away altogether. I nearly cry out in disapproval. My insides mourn the loss of his touch, ferociously igniting when he rests the palm of his hand on my inner thigh, gives it a squeeze, then runs it back down to my foot. My body turns to putty in his hands when he presses his thumb into the arch. I fight to hold back moans while he continues rubbing my foot.

The moment is intimate. Too intimate for two people to be having the very first night they met.

"That feels good," I say, nearly slurring my words.

Edward gives my foot a lazy grin. "That's the point."

His palm runs down the flat of my foot to my heel, his gaze not far behind as they both travel up my calf to my upper thigh. His eyelids are heavy when he meets my eyes just as his phone rings.

The sound sobers both of us. He pulls his hand away to pick the phone from his pocket and glance at the screen. Standing, he answers, holding up a finger before disappearing into the bathroom.

I'm momentarily paralyzed from shock, partially from my behavior, and partially by how easily he blew me off. I lie there until I hear the jiggle of the bathroom handle then scramble to right myself before he can see what he's done to me.

"Uh, listen," he says, coming to stand at the far end of the couch. "It was really cool of you to offer to let me stay and all. And, I don't want you to think I don't appreciate it 'cause I do. But something's come up and I gotta take care of a few things."

"Oh …" I say, trying not to sound too out of breath or disappointed.

"Yeah …" He almost looks sorry. "But, hey. No need to worry. Not that you would or anything. But, there's no way I'm sleeping now. Believe me."

He stares at me in a you-know-what-I-mean sort of way. And oh, I know what he means, all right.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

He rubs the back of his neck, barely able to make eye contact.

Not wanting to hold him up any longer, I stand and adjust my top then gesture for him to head to the door. I unlock it for him, holding it open so he can step out into the hallway. He stands there for a moment, just staring at his feet.

"Look, I'm sorry about …" He gestures to the couch.

"Yeah, let's not …" I shake my head and he nods.

"Right. Okay. Well, see you around maybe?" he asks, and I refrain from answering honestly.

"Yeah, maybe."

Fact is our meeting was by chance. A coincidence of a predicament I won't find myself in again. Not anytime soon, if ever.

Jutting his chin in understanding, he turns away. I watch him walk down the hall a ways before closing and locking the door to lean back against it.

Only one thing's for certain as I try to wiggle the lingering discomfort from between my legs and head to my room.

There's no way I'm going to be sleeping now either.

Knowing I can't doesn't stop me from trying, though. I lose the pants and climb under the covers. No sooner than my head hits the pillow I hear someone knock.

My insides try to escape me as I scramble out of bed, booking it for the door. I calm myself right before opening it to a nasty gash, two bruised eyes, and a busted bottom lip.

Rubbing his jaw, he points inside. "Forgot my shirt."

"Oh, right." Momentarily forgetting which way to go, I hold up a finger. "Wait here a sec and I'll go get it."

I wrinkle my nose at the wet mess in my washer then wring out the water the best I can before taking it back out and handing it over to it's rightful owner. "There ya go."

Edward takes his ruined shirt then continues to stand there, staring at the door frame.

"Was there something else?"

Briefly picking at a chipped piece of paint, he looks at me.

"Yeah. Your number?" It's an almost shy request. Like he's nervous or something. So unlike him.

With a rather smug smile of my own, I hold out my hand for his phone. When he hands it over, I type my number in then hand it back.

"Thanks." He holds the phone up before shoving it in his back pocket. "This way I can inform you when I don't die later. You cool with that?"

"Yeah, I'm cool with that."

His confidence builds back up by way of a smile.

"Cool. See ya."

"Yeah, see ya."

He heads back down the hallway toward the elevator, talking over his shoulder. "Oh, and I'm liking those jammies a whole lot better since you lost the bottoms."

Looking down, I find myself pantless just as he steps onto the elevator. I hurry up inside, a little embarrassed and incredibly annoyed. But at least I shaved. And there's still a smile on my face.

* * *

Ok this is the last of the prewritten chaps. I'll try and post once to twice a week. No promises tho. Love you all! Muah


	7. Chapter 7

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

So this past week has been the worst.

Work especially sucked. A winning scratch-off barcode was faulty and screwed me out of 10 dollars. My kid got sick 3 days before we leave for vacation. Now we get to give antibiotics at the beach. Had to deflea and bathe my dog before we boarded her cause idk, a fucking doggy daycare with a groomer doesn't actually exist to make your life easier. Almost walked right into a goddamn spider suspended in the air. Which if you know me, is a huge ass deal. Got attacked by a moth. And this was only by Wednesday. Now it's Friday, I'm sick and we leave for the beach tomorrow.

Sigh.

So to summarize, fuck everything and everyone.

Except you.

You guys are cool.

* * *

Heat stains my cheeks, a tiny drop of sweat rolling down my temple to drip onto my bare shoulder.

He comes at me from behind, molding his arms against mine. We move together as he speaks into my ear.

"Good. Now take it over there to the table, like I showed you." He let's go, and I back up, pulling the steel pipe out of the crucible. There's really not much difference between it and a sideways witches cauldron. But making that comparison in front of Jasper is a mistake I'll never make again.

"You're getting better at this."

Smiling up at him, I see his baby fine blond flyaways are as soaked as mine.

He's the only guy I know who can pull off a man bun without looking like he needs a shower. Maybe that's because whenever I see him, he usually looks like he's just stepped out of one.

Refocusing on the pipe, I roll a little molten glass molds into a ball just as easily as it morphs out of it so I've got to be quick and precise. Since this is all I've really done it's all I know how to do. Roll. Back and forth. Back and forth. And it's gotten rather boring. But Jasper says I have to learn patience above all else. A feat not easily achieved for a girl like me.

"So, what did you do over the weekend? You have a good New Year?"

The mention of the ruined holiday makes Edward's face flash through my mind and a shock shoot to my stomach.

"It was fine. How 'bout yours?" I deliberately don't tell Jasper about what happened that night. In addition to being my boss and my friend, he also acts as a big brother. He didn't even want me going to that side of town so late by myself.

Not being too intuitive, Jasper doesn't catch on that I'm not telling him something and goes on to tell me about his exciting night of staying in and fixing stove top popcorn in the crucible.

"It was kettle corn in case you were curious," he adds. I give him a smile that lets him know I'm not judging him. Never would. In fact, it sounds pretty perfect. And now I'm hungry.

"The stove broke. I've been eating takeout for a month."

"Shouldn't your landlord fix that?"

"No landlord. Land contract." He points up but nowhere in particular.

I nod once, remembering. "Right." The small movement causes the glass to dimple. I scrunch my nose and keep rolling.

"If sales don't start picking up soon, I may not be eating at all."

"Maybe you could start selling the popcorn. Dammit." My joke is foiled when I can't smoothe the glass back out and the imperfection gets the better of me. I drop the pipe onto the table to wipe the sweat off my forehead and plant my hands on my hips. "I'm never going to get this."

"Yes you will. Don't stress over it. It's still art. Better than last time."

"Hey." I stop him right there with a point of my finger. "I meant to make that giant lopsided blob of color, okay?" Pulling the thick gloves off my hands, I toss them on the table. "It makes a fantastic paperweight. My lab partner even asked me to make her one."

"Oh?" Jasper grabs up the gloves and slides them on. "Why haven't you?"

I shrug. "I don't like her."

Jasper's brows raise. "That's a good reason."

We share a laugh at my bluntness before he grabs the pipe off the table and reheats the glass. I step back when I feel the heat to watch the master at work, mesmerized by how fast he rolls and molds it to his will.

A twirl here. A dip in glitter there. He reheats then a few twists later he's created something—I don't know what but it's something—out of my dimpled nothing.

It takes a minute to cool then he taps it off the end of the pipe and holds it up in the light.

"A unicorn turd," he says, then proceeds to smooth the bottom, letting it cool again before handing it to me. "For your lab partner."

I hold it up again to watch it sparkle. "Nice." Kind of jealous of how pretty the piece of shit it is, I consider keeping it for myself and giving her my not so decorative piece of shit instead. "Thanks."

"No problem."

I cradle the turd in my hands like the precious pile it is, looking after him for a moment when he turns away to start cleaning up.

He never accepts my help so I just pack up my bag and head out yelling out a see ya later over my shoulder.

Jasper doesn't bother looking back, just raises his hand to let me know he heard me.

The winter night takes my breath away as soon as I walk through the door. It bites my cheeks and fingers until they're numb, and I wonder how I was ever wearing a skirt the other night.

Thinking about how cold I was on New Years makes me think of Edward. Thinking of Edward warms me up slightly.

Some crazy part of me hopes I run into him. But every corner I turn, he's not there and I find myself more and more disappointed … relieved? I'm not really sure which. All I'm certain of is he hasn't called. Hasn't texted. Like he never asked for my number. Like I never gave it to him.

Like we didn't have some sort of a connection. Like he didn't feel it too. At least, right there at the end. Before he up and left with no explanation. He could be dead for all I know.

By the time I reach my apartment, I've worked myself up into an unwarranted frenzy. The normal routine of stripping my bra and pants doesn't help much. I slip into my PJs and sip on some tea while I flip through the channels, trying to calm my nerves.

That doesn't work either.

It isn't until I give up and turn off the TV that the text I had been expecting days ago finally comes through.

 _Still alive. Been thinking about you._


	8. Chapter 8

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

Vacation was great, went fairly smoothly. Traveling with a toddler is both exciting and exhausting. We pretty much took turns babysitting so the other could relax a minute. But it beat being at work any day.

* * *

Thank you to Rita for the beautiful beaten Edward banner! You can see it via Random Rita friday feature fics over at Rob Attack on wordpress or on my fb page Jonesn Jones.

* * *

My stomach drops out of my ass.

Grabbing my phone, I sit straight up to hit the message bar and pull up the keyboard. My thumb hovers over the keys.

Do I answer? Do I wait? Make him wonder and worry like he did me?

Every reply I start to type, I delete.

 _Good to hear._

No.

 _Been thinking about you too._

No. Too desperate.

Throwing my phone down on the couch, I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I brush them for a whole two minutes, peeking out the door every now and then to eye my phone.

I choose this time to decide to start flossing regularly, making a mental note to call and set up a cleaning at the dentist's office soon.

Once I finish scrubbing the shower and the toilet, I wash my hands then head to my room without my phone.

It feels weird being in a separate room from my phone. As much as I hate it, it's become a part of me. Like a limb.

I last about five minutes with nothing to distract my thoughts. Finding myself back in the living room, I grab it up and head to the bedroom again.

I stare at his message, reading it over and over again.

 _Been thinking about you._

 _Been thinking about you._

 _Been thinking about you._

Has he really been or is that just something a guy says to a girl? Is this just a game he's playing?

I want to believe he's been thinking about me. That he just waited to seem cool and indifferent. That he's been looking at his phone like I've been mine, wanting to write.

But then I remember I've never been particularly good at games. Not the emotional kind anyway. If I'm going to play, it's going to be _with_ him.

Smiling to myself, I start typing my reply.

 _ **Bout time. I was just getting started on your obituary.**_

His reply is almost instantaneous. I can nearly feel his smile.

 _Hopefully you have some good things to say._

 _ **Some**_ _._

 _Well, let's hear it._

 _ **Edward Anthony Masen died sometime between the early morning of January 1st and 4th. The person writing this doesn't know exactly when because she hadn't heard from him.**_

 _Yeah. Sorry about that._

 _ **Edward was an idiot.**_

 _That he was._

 _ **But he had his good qualities.**_

 _Oh, yeah?_

 _ **Yeah. He gave good foot rubs and made a mean grilled cheese.**_

 _He also enjoyed doing those things. For you, at least. Would like to do them again sometime._

There went my stomach again.

 _ **I'd like that, too.**_

I bite my thumbnail, almost unable to stand how giddy I feel.

But that feeling soon passes when he doesn't write back after that.

…

"Who was the first relevant artist to paint on canvas rather than wood panels?" Angela asks, but I'm in a daze. Have been since the night I got ghosted for the second time by the same guy.

I mean, what the hell?

"Bella … Bella? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Prying my palm off my chin, I sit up and fold my arms over the table. "Yeah. Titian."

"What?"

"Titian. That's the answer."

"Oh." She turns the flashcard over to check. "Yep, that's right. How is it you retain all these names?"

I shrug. I just do.

"It's like a superpower." Angela shuffles the cards thinking she'll somehow trip me up if they're out of order. But studying is all I ever do. Except for that one time I went to that party and ran into that one guy who won't text me back. "Hey, what's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've just been so quiet."

"I'm always quiet."

She gives me a look. "Especially quiet. Come on." She kicks my foot under the table. "Give it up. It's me here."

The fact that it's her is the exact reason I'm not telling her anything. Her boyfriend Ben is a volunteer firefighter, Big Brother, and all-around upstanding citizen. He's studying to be a youth pastor. Worships the Lord and the ground she walks on. He would never not text her back. She would never understand.

"It's nothing, really. I'm just worried about this test coming up. I've got clinicals all next week. I'm doing house visits with Children's Services. You know how I get when there's kids involved. I just hope everything goes smoothly and they've all been acting right."

My reasoning for my mood appeases her while also being a big part of the truth. I have been worrying about this next week and how I'll be able to handle a situation if it goes south.

Focus now shifted, I feel more mopey than ever, remembering all the messed up case studies we've worked on in class.

"Okay, what was the artist's main contribution to science?" Angela asks but I can't concentrate.

"Observation skills," I answer on autopilot. "Hey, I think I'm done for tonight. My brain is fried."

"Okay. Well, you want to get something to eat? I don't have to met Ben for another couple hours."

"Nah, I'm good. Not really all that hungry."

My stomach growls as soon as the lie comes out of my mouth but Angela doesn't hear it.

Once we're packed up, we hug bye and take off for opposite ends of campus.

My phone vibrates a couple times in my pocket. I pull it out a little too fast each time to see it's my mother and send both calls to voicemail.

It's not that I don't want to talk to her but I don't. Even though she's self-absorbed and insanely selfish, she knows me better than anyone. I know if I answer she'll sense something's wrong and insist on taking the first flight out to be here and help me fix things by skipping class and day drinking.

My feet don't take me to my apartment but the opposite side of town. Jasper answers the door after the second knock, slurping a noodle out of his box of Chinese takeout.

"Hey," I greet him and step inside without invitation. I turn back to point at the container in his hand as he shuts the door. "You got any extra?"


	9. Chapter 9

Betad by kitchmill

Pretend by Hoodie

* * *

Watching Dazed and Confused, feeling dazed and confused. And yes, this is a bit short, but ya know. Lyfe, guise. Lyfe. Plus I'm working on a couple new things that could eventually turn into something.

* * *

I wake up the next morning face down in one of Jasper's personalized throw pillows.

It's hard and uncomfortable. Has probably left a permanent dent down the center of my face and now I'm deformed. All because he can't afford any that match so he paints them.

Who paints a pillow?

"Morning." His boisterous voice echoes off the bare walls and vibrates through my skull.

I wince and groan then wince again. "Jesus, Jasper." Is he always this loud?

"Sorry. There's Advil on the table. Wash it down with the lemon water. I'll make you some toast."

"You don't have to do that."

"Yeah I do. You're my guest."

More like the girl who dropped in and drank all the Seagram's Sweet Tea.

"Besides, I want to." He fires up the furnace for the day then takes off for the kitchen, which is right there in the corner of the building where I can still see him.

I watch while he collects supplies before I sit up to gather the pain pills. The lemon water really hits the spot. Kind of like the deep conversation we had last night. Jasper was really insightful after he handed me my ass for inviting a stranger into my home. He's had a lot of experience and problems with prepaid cell phones. So, maybe Edward isn't avoiding me after all. Maybe he really did just run out of minutes.

The toast Jasper sets down in front of me is dripping with butter. I wonder what I did to deserve to have a boss/friend as good as him in my life.

Dumb luck, I guess. I was walking around the city, looking for a job. He had a sign in the window. Voilà.

"You sure you don't want half of this?" I ask. I wait until Jasper shakes his head before I lay into the most delicious thing I've probably ever tasted.

Once I finish licking off my fingers, Jasper slaps his hands down on his lap. "Well. What do you say? You wanna hang around a bit and give it another try?" He jerks his head toward the cauldron. I mean, crucible.

I smile. "Yeah." I slap my lap, too. "Let's do it."

.

.

.

I head home a few hours later with what's supposed to be a cup but is more like a lopsided thing no one will be able to drink out of.

But apparently, it's progress. Jasper's loud, assuring voice rings through my head.

When I get back to my apartment complex, James, the weird owner of the building, slinks out of his hidey hole.

"There was a message left for you."

"Oh, yeah? By who?"

"A, uh ..." He pauses to check the crumpled piece of paper in his hand, squinting through what I can only assume were his grandpa's bifocals. "Complete Idiot," he says as if it's the person's actual name.

I give him a confused look. "Huh?" I don't have the time for this. Well, I do. But I don't want to be doing it.

"Yeah, see? Right here." He points to the name on the paper. "A Complete Idiot. That's what he told me to write." Sure enough, that's what it says. "He said you'd know who it was. So, do you?" He pushes the glasses up on his nose and all I see is Urkel.

"Do I what?" I ask, not really listening to him anymore.

"Do you know who it is?"

Brow creased, I nod. "Yeah … Yeah, I know who it is."

At least, I'm pretty sure I do.

"Oh, okay then. Here." He hands me the paper.

"Thanks."

He pushes up his glasses again, holding them in place so he can nod then heads back into his office.

I take off for my apartment, barely inside when I throw down my stuff and lay into this note like the buttery toast I had earlier this morning.

Meet me tomorrow 11 o'clock. Corner of E 55th and Harper.

-A Complete Idiot


	10. Chapter 10

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

You guys, today it was 80 degrees. In October. The only 8 that belongs in the forecast for October follows a 5. Idk about you but I'm over this. I want to cover up. I don't want to sweat while I'm doing it. Over. This. So, let's just stay in and read with the air conditioning on. Yeah? Okay well, enjoy this short ass chap.

* * *

True to his name, Edward didn't specify what time to meet him. Morning or night? I have no idea. Wasn't even sure what day. But that's James' fault.

Grabbing my phone, I shoot Edward a message.

Hey idiot, is it 11am or pm that you want to meet?

I think before continuing.

And what day did you call? Did I already miss you? If so, I'm Sorry. I stayed the night at Jas—

I delete that last part.

And what day did you call? Did I already miss you? If so, I'm Sorry.

I wait a perfectly acceptable amount of time for him to answer before stomping back to the elevator and impatiently riding it down to the first floor where I knock on the office door. I'm close to turning into a woodpecker by the time James answers.

"Yes?"

"What day did he call?"

"Uh." He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, who are we talking about?"

I refrain from rolling my eyes and/or huffing. "The idiot. What day did he call and leave this message?" I hold up the note. "Yesterday or today?"

"Oh, uh. Today. Around nine o'clock."

Okay, good. At least I have some time to figure out the timeframe if James here is of no help or the idiot continues to not answer my texts.

"Well did he say what time to meet him?"

"Yes. It's right there on the paper." He points to the eleven.

This time I do roll my eyes and huff. "Yes. But is it a.m. or p.m.? Day or night? Did he specify what time?"

I lean against the door frame and stare at James while he crinkles his lips and thinks about it.

Never in my life have I wanted to punch someone more. And whoa, I really need to get some more sleep if I'm wanting to punch my harmless landlord in his face.

The one I really want to punch I can't figure out when I'll see.

"Mm, no. I don't believe he did. Is that all?"

Annnd there's the urge to punch James in the face again.

"Okay, great. Thanks." For nothing.

Damn, that was exhausting.

I skulk back upstairs, knowing there will be no text. And I'm right.

Curious, I look up the street corner and find that it's, in fact, located in Hyde Park.

Through careful deduction, I conclude Edward doesn't want me to meet him at eleven o'clock at night. If so, he'd not only be a complete idiot but completely insane. Any surrounding area of the University is bad news, especially after dark. I'm just lucky I ran into him instead of some thief or murderer on New Year's. Lesson learned. I'm never going out alone that late at night again. Pepper spray or not.

It's hard thinking about anything but meeting Edward the rest of the day. But I somewhat manage to do it, only suffering from a small case of butterflies whenever it sneaks up on my mind. I distract it with laundry and a lengthy Grey's Anatomy binge. When I get sick of that, I work on a couple papers. When I finish those, I pick out a few things to wear the next day.

If there's one thing I learned moving north, it's to always dress in layers.

I spend the remainder of the evening worrying over where it is we're meeting and what we're going to do or say when we meet there.

Time passes. It gets later and later. The more I need to get to sleep, the wider awake I feel. I finally pass out so late that I have hit snooze until there's no option but to turn off the alarm. With less than an hour to get ready, I settle for a whore's bath and sprinkle some powder into the part of my hair before heading out just in time to catch the bus.

The heat blowing out of the vents is relentless. It beats against my forehead until beads of sweat threaten to seep from my pores. I take off my coat then my sweater, warding off the impending anxiety attack.

See?

Layers.

They're just as good as Xanax.

The closest stop is a couple blocks away from the intersection I'm looking for. It's cool because it gives me time to air out and collect myself, gather my bearings from the bouncy bus ride before I'm standing on the corner of 55th and Harper.

Glancing down at my phone, I find it's exactly eleven when I hear my name.


	11. Chapter 11

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

It went from 80s to 50s like that. Maybe some prayers do get answered.

* * *

Whipping around, I spot Edward across the street. He raises his hand and waves once to indicate where he is, which is actually necessary since the red reflecting off his hair is blinding. The other throws down a cigarette at his feet. He smothers it with the bottom of his shoe.

He calls my name again. Not bothering to wave back, I look both ways before crossing the street to meet him on the other side.

"Hey," he greets once I'm standing in front of him.

"Hey."

His sunglasses don't do much to cover the extent of his injuries. I can still see the gash on his forehead and busted lip. They're both scabbed over and look like they've been healing nicely. I wonder about the rest of him.

"You came."

"Yeah." It comes out with my next breath. Standing here now in front of him makes me wonder why I did. I should have known this was going to be awkward. Too much time has passed for it not to be.

We stand there in silence until he shoves his hands in his pockets and twists at the waist, jerking his head toward the diner behind him. "You wanna go in? I thought we could get something to eat. On me."

I stare at him a moment before taking up his offer and stepping past him to head into the restaurant.

He follows me, one of his hands making a reappearance to hold the door open. "After you."

"Thanks."

I don't realize how hungry I am until the smell of food hits me and my stomach grumbles.

I pick a spot by the window so if conversation doesn't pick up soon we at least have something to look at.

The service here is surprisingly quick and friendly. The waitress takes our drink orders just about as soon as our asses hit the booth. I smile from behind the menu when he orders the sweet tea too.

"So," he starts off.

I lower the menu but don't look up yet. "So …" I wait for an explanation that doesn't come freely, so I go searching for it. "Did you lose your phone or something?" I glance up to witness him smirk then glance back down at the menu.

"Or something."

And here we go.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Is it dead? Do you not have minutes? What?

"I had to ditch it."

"You had to ditch it?" Now knowing what I want for lunch I look up and lean back. "Why?"

He scratches the side of his head and briefly glances out the window. "Uh, the plan was too expensive."

I give him a look when he turns back. "And you decided this right in the middle of texting me?"

"No. That's when my phone stopped working. I had to sell it to get another one for a prepay plan."

"Okay, but why did you need a new phone? Wouldn't the old one have worked just fine?"

"Maybe, but it was exactly that. Old. It was time for a new one."

I lean forward to emphasize my annoyance with his holey explanation. When I open my mouth to call him out on it, the waitress chooses to pop back up and take our orders.

He thinks he's being cute when he orders the grilled cheese. Like I'll forget everything he's done wrong so far and focus on what he's gotten right. My eyes shrink to slits when the waitress turns her back.

"You were saying?" Edward gives me an opening to continue.

But I really don't have any idea what I was saying. No idea why I'm so angry or acting hostile toward him. Other than the fact that this guy is always playing on my last nerve and driving me crazy. He makes me feel crazy then I act crazy. It's time to me to start reining it in.

"You should quit smoking. It's bad for you."

So much for reigning in the crazy.

"Good for my nerves, though."

"Are you typically a nervous person?"

"Not typically, no. Are you?"

"I don't smoke if that's what you're asking."

"It wasn't. But good to know, I guess. What I was asking is are you a typically nervous person?"

"No, I don't think so." Not unless I'm around you. "Why? Do I seem nervous?"

"No, not at all." I sense a hint a sarcasm in his voice.

"Okay well, anyway. I'm curious."

"About what?"

"Why you didn't write down your contacts before ditching your phone." Obviously, he didn't have all of them memorized. Especially mine.

"Well, that's where the complete idiot part comes into play."

My eyebrow quirks. "I thought we had already established you're a complete idiot the first time you didn't text me."

He smiles down at the table as if bowing his head in shame. "Yeah, yeah. I guess we did."

He glances up at me and my belly flutters like it did when he touched me that night. My imagination runs rampant picturing us together … that way. I blink the thoughts out, reminding myself I'm annoyed by him, not turned on.

The waitress severs our connection when she sits the first plate down on the table. Once she's finished we both quietly thank her, giving each other one more look before focusing on our food.

Edward takes a few bites then swallows a drink and starts up again. "I had a friend over who wanted to buy the phone so without thinking I wiped it clean and handed it over. Went to the store that night for a new one and realized I didn't have your number."

He wolfs down a fry. "Felt like an ass if it makes you feel any better."

It kind of does. "You are an ass."

He doesn't disagree, just stuffs his face and smiles around the mouthful.

I let him see me smile this time in light of my forgiveness. After all, he did make the trip all the way to my apartment to see me again.

"While I'm thinking about it let me get your number again." He hands over his phone long enough for me to plug in the numbers and save it as a contact. A text comes through which makes him anxious to get it back.

"Laurie," I say, handing it over. "That your girlfriend?"

"If I had a girlfriend I wouldn't be sitting here with you."

Fair enough.

I don't feel bold enough yet to ask if it's his fuck buddy. If he has a fuck buddy. Or, God forbid, buddies. Laurie can be a guy for all I know. Why not? It was in Little Women.

Edward's immersed in his phone while he responds. I dig back into my food, trying not to obsess over things that are none of my business yet.

Yet?

Do I even want them to be my business?

If my loins have anything to say about it, I do. Everything else about this guy screams "run." But for some reason I don't want to. For some reason, beyond all the red flags waving in my face, he makes me feel safe. For some reason, I trust him.

"So what were we talking about?" Edward asks once he sets down his phone.

I glance at it before looking up at him. "How much of an ass you are."

"Oh, right. Such an ass."

"You really are." I pop a fry in my mouth, smiling as I chew.

Conversation is still somewhat stagnant after that. He isn't as open with what he's been up to as he is with sharing food. His fork finds its way onto my plate a couple of times before he offers me a bite of his grilled cheese, which I politely decline. It's insanely intimate and couple-like.

After we're done with lunch he invites me for a walk along Lake Michigan since the weather is perfect for it. There's just enough warmth that it's not too uncomfortable even when the wind blows.

We can see the buildings of downtown Chicago across the bay sparkling in the sunlight.

"It looks magical from over here. Like the Emerald City or something. Don't you think?"

Edward shrugs. "I can see why you'd think that. Sure. I don't know. Guess I'm just used to it. Immune to its charm."

Maybe that's because everything behind us looks like straight up Oz.

Even if it didn't, I can understand where he's coming from. If I were from here and suffered the same experiences I had in Miami, I'd probably feel the same. But as it is, I can't imagine not seeing the city in this way. "Well, I hope I never get used to it."

"I hope you don't either. That would be a shame."

"It would." I nod once, tearing my gaze away from the skyline of the city and gluing it to Edward's profile. "So, how's business? Sell any gerbils lately?"

"Why? You interested?"

"Maybe."

Edward glances over to see if I'm serious.

I'm not, of course. If it really is gerbils, that's a responsibility I'm not ready to commit to. And if it's not, I don't think I can commit to this. This being us.

I'm getting way too ahead of myself.

"Okay, no. I don't want a gerbil. I don't want anything you're selling unless it's discount designer bags. And not hot off the truck," I air quote, "either. Is that what you do? Is that what you won't tell me? You sell stolen stuff? Drugs? What?"

Edward's eyes go wide. He looks around before grabbing my arm and pulling me off the path to hide us behind a tree. He holds me firmly against the trunk.

"Are you crazy?" he asks, a little too close to my face.

Maybe. All I can picture is him is kissing me right now.

"You can't just go around screaming things like that."

I hardly screamed.

"My business is just that. My business. If you can't handle it then don't come meet me. Don't answer when I text you tonight and ask you out again."

That makes me perk up. My gaze travels from his lips to his eyes. He's planning on asking me out again? Is this out? Are we on a date?

"Got it?"

"Yeah."

His grip never tightens. Not once during this exchange have I felt threatened. Just sufficiently put in my place and turned on.

"I got it."

I'm actually disappointed when he lets go of my arm and backs away. But then he holds out his hand as a peace offering. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

When my hand slides into his, our fingers tangle, and it feels right. Like they fit.

Edward opens up a little bit more on the walk to my place, filling me in on things that happened to him if we passed a particular spot on the way. Little things. Like the park where he played ball. The crack in the pavement that threw him off his bike and literally cracked his skull.

"Well, that explains everything."

His reaction is between a laugh and a growl. With our fingers still tangled, he lifts our hands in the air, forcing me closer so he can lower his arm over my shoulder. The move locks me in with my own arm. I have to say, I'm pretty impressed. And pretty shocked when I feel him press a kiss to the side of my head.

We walk step in step until we're standing in front of the door to my place. Edward spins me free, making me so dizzy I have to lean against the building.

I'm all silly smiles and spinning head, making my lips extra sensitive when he touches them with his.

They're cold but his breath is warm. He's gone before I can think to wrap my arms around his neck so I can feel them longer.

When I open my eyes, he's halfway down the walkway. Without looking back, he talks over his shoulder. "I'll text you later tonight."

I'm still in a haze when I walk inside, waving off James when I hear him asking if it was the right time. I don't remember the ride up to my apartment. Can hardly find the strength to dig for my keys so I can unlock the door.

The longer I sit there on the couch with my eyes closed, the clearer everything becomes. As the haze wears off, I get a second wind, remembering the text that came through on Edward's phone earlier that day.

I had seen the whole thing. Remembered exactly what it said. It was a meeting place.

Going against all my better judgement, I grab my coat and purse, knowing exactly where they'll be.


	12. Chapter 12

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

I've never been to the U of C. I'm trying to study up on the campus and surrounding area. And honestly, I'm sick of doing that. So, if anything's wrong, I don't care. Please ignore it.

Also. Sounds like very few of you have any faith left in Bella. Don't worry. She's not a complete lost cause. Read on.

* * *

The University of Chicago library looks as though it materialized straight out of a Sci-fi movie.

The stunning stature still intimidates me to this day. I always have to stop and look at it, take it all in before working up the nerve to step inside.

The shuffle of papers echoes off the walls as soon as I walk in. I can smell the pages of age-old books permeating from floor to ceiling.

It instantly calms me. Like nothing can bring me harm. Not even the doings of a certain guy and his androgynously named companion who should be here at any moment.

Steering clear of the entrance, I head for the nonfiction section where thousands of unread romances are calling my name and I feel most comfortable.

I used to read horror. Loved everything about it until I enrolled in U of C and started seeing and hearing the stories every day in real life. By winter quarter of my first year, I had my fill. A whole genre ruined for me and my greedy eyes.

Bookshelves flank me on either side. All filled with a colorful array of books in all different sizes. Thin ones. Fat ones. Short ones. Tall ones. They match all the people who are eating up the words and spitting them back out in a different formation for their papers.

I swear the whole state of Illinois is here tonight. It's a wonder how so many people can coexist this quietly yet still be making so much noise at the same time.

The combined body heat in this place is stifling. I unbutton my coat and strip it off to drape it over my forearm.

Better than Xanax.

I stretch my neck and take a deep breath, remembering what I'm here for and that I'm in a public place, therefore totally safe.

The number of people makes it fairly easy for me to blend in. I scan from side to side then behind me, making sure I don't miss him coming in. If he even does come in. The text just had a time and a place.

Eight o'clock. Regenstein.

Looking up at the clock, I see that it's five after and I'm standing in the center of the Joseph Regenstein library, looking like I'm lost.

I head to the back and grab a random book, tucking myself into a corner facing the room so I can covertly scan the tables. I wait there for fifteen minutes with no luck of spotting Edward or even someone that remotely looks like a Laurie.

I'm almost relieved. But not enough not to check the new part of the library before going back home. Putting the book back, I head into the dome where I don't find Edward but instead find it's started to snow.

Snowflakes flutter down to stick to the edges of the glass, making the room cooler than the main part of the library.

The clicking of keys on keyboards is much quieter than the flipping of thick manilla pages.

I take a minute to admire how tranquil the glass ceiling makes the winter seem because I know as soon as I step outside I'm going to be cursing the frigidness of the season. It's the only time of year I truly miss Miami.

Adjusting my coat to drape over my other arm, I head back out toward the main reading area.

A flash of red bounces off the fluorescent lights and catches my eye just as quickly as he disappears around the corner.

My heart races, stunning me where I stand. No way he saw me or he would have stopped and said something. Probably put me in my place once again.

But then I remember where I am and that I have the perfect alibi for being here tonight.

I'm a student, after all. And what do students need? Books. And where do you find them? Libraries.

Slinking along the wall, I peek around the corner to find the hallway empty. I take the lightest steps I can manage to get to the end where I hear whispers coming from behind one of the stacks.

I'm like a ninja, silently sidestepping down one of the vacant aisles until I see the back of a head full of wildly brazen hair. And, ha! If that's Laurie who's with him, it is a guy!

Edward stops talking. I stop celebrating when he looks around, no doubt now feeling my presence in the room. I duck to a lower shelf, level with their hands, just in time to see him pass something to the guy who's with him.

It's drugs.

I knew it.

Damnit.

It hits me all at once. The insanity. The silliness. The unbelievably naive idea that this could go anywhere. I feel incredibly stupid for ever thinking it. For ever taking him home to begin with. Then meeting him. And following him around like a clueless stalker.

They take off, and I head to the back to hide behind the end of a stack until I'm sure they're gone.

My guard's down by the time I make it back out to the main reading room. The crowd has thinned somewhat, leaving a couple tables nearly empty. I stop in my tracks when I spot Edward sitting all alone at one of them.

He seems immersed in the book he's reading, holding it open with both hands. I almost forget all the self-chastising I did over him just a few minutes prior until someone sneaks up and scares the ever loving shit out of me.

"Hey, Bella."

I jerk slightly, craning my neck to find one of my art history classmates standing behind me. He's wearing the same Bob Marley T-shirt he's always wearing. His dirty blond dreadlocks are pulled back in a ponytail, the flyaways unwilling to be tamed. His once full beard has been shaved down to a goatee that looks surprisingly fitting on him. While still too hairy for my liking, the familiar face helps me relax a little.

"Hey, Felix. What are you doing here?" I ask like it's not obvious by the pile of books he's pushing around.

"I work here part time to help pay for housing."

I nod, my gaze searching the room then zoning in on Edward again.

"Hey, you finish the paper that's due Friday?" Felix asks, nudging my arm.

"Uh, yeah." I study the movement of Edward's hands. How he flips the page then wipes his nose before grabbing on with both hands again.

"That's cool. What did you do it on? Maybe you could help me with mine."

"Western attitudes toward Renoir and Impressionist artists. What about yours?"

"Well, that's the thing. I don't know what I want to do it on yet."

"You don't know?" I ask, looking over at him like he's crazy.

"Yeah. I was thinking something different. Unexpected. Ya know? Like the history of postcards or something. What do you think?"

He cheeses at my blank stare. I turn away, my voice softening. "That's definitely different."

He continues talking about Post-its or postcards. What the hell ever they are until he catches on that I'm not listening.

"You know Tony?"

"Who?" My ears perk up.

"Tony. The guy over there in the Velvet Underground hoodie."

I give him a look.

"The one with the banana."

Banana? Is he high?

He blows out a laugh as if he's read my mind. "On the hoodie."

I look back over at Edward's sweatshirt and squint.

Huh.

Is that what that is?

At that moment, Edward slams the book shut and stops by the checkout desk before heading outside.

I decide to hang back a few minutes and chat with Felix, trying not to seem too disappointed. "No. I don't know him at all."


	13. Chapter 13

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

I know things seem to be slowing down then picking up a bit then slowing down again and that's because they are. I've had a rather stressful week with an application for a new position so that took up a lot of my time. I dream of the day I don't have to work at all. Just sit around, write, play with my kid and watch Netflix. *sigh* Anyway ...

* * *

"Who keeps calling you?" Angela asks, looking up from her text book.

I grab my phone before she can see and send the call to voicemail. "I don't know. Probably a bill collector or a wrong number." I shrug, knowing damn well it's neither. But Angela has no reason not to believe me since the only person who actually calls is my mom. And this isn't my mom's number.

It's Tony's.

Or Edward's.

Or whoever the hell he's going by these days.

Ever since Felix filled me in, I've been avoiding him and he's been blowing up my phone. Asking if I'm still alive, if something is wrong, if he did something wrong.

It's pathetic, really. I kind of loved it. But not enough to disrespect myself by actually dating a drug dealer. Who just so happens to periodically sell to Felix.

The best thing for me would be to put this guy out of my mind. But my mind doesn't necessarily work that way. Cranking up the stereo, I try drowning it out instead.

Angela packs up about thirty minutes later, unable to concentrate because of the music. I turn it off as soon as she shuts the door, leaving my cell unchecked on the floor with my books while I get ready to head out myself.

The winter chill is unforgiving but in a matter of minutes I'm standing in front of Stony Hall looking up at the building and contemplating if I'm going to go in or not.

I had been under the impression Felix and I would be working on his paper in the library when he first asked for my help. However, his reminder text listed this address as a meeting place. I would have canceled but I kind of like Felix. I definitely don't want to see him fail. I'm not sure if he can finish this paper on time by himself.

For that very reason and the fact that I don't want to seem like an asshole, I head into the building.

The tile is slippery under my boots. I practically slide by the mailboxes and into the elevator to ride up to Felix's floor.

I hear music the moment I step out and into the hallway. It gets louder the closer I get to Felix's room. The bass rattles the hinges. I can feel it vibrating through the handle once I give up on knocking and open the door.

I'm expecting a full house but it's quite the opposite. Only a handful of people are lounging around the living quarters, all staring at me while I stand in the doorway, scoping out the scene.

The guys all look too preppy to be Felix's friends. The girl with the spiky black hair, plaid skirt and combat boots makes more sense.

Bella! Felix mouths as he stands to turn down the music and meet me. He ushers me in by the shoulders practically shoving me into the center of the party.

"Sit. Sit," Felix insists. Hesitant, I squeeze in between him and another guy I don't know on the couch. The girl stares blankly at me.

It's beyond awkward. I feel incredibly out of place. Completely unwelcome.

"Guys, this is Bella." They all mumble a greeting. All but the girl who stares at me from her spot on the floor. So much for solidarity. "She's going to be helping me with my paper later."

Later?

Just how late is he expecting me to stay?

"Bella, that's Maggie and these are the guys. Ben, Brady, Garrett. We met in Jewish studies."

Huh.

I glance over at Felix. "I didn't know you were Jewish."

"Maggie and I aren't. But these guys are. We totally connected on a spiritual level." He points a finger gun in their direction. "Shabbat shalom. Am I right?" He winks.

My forehead crinkles.

Maggie rolls her eyes at her nails while the others mumble under their breaths again, giving each other a look like they can't wait to get out of there when there's a knock.

Felix gets back up again to answer leaving me with his equally unsociable guests. I alternate glancing between them, my head jerking to the door when Felix greets the person behind it.

"Hey, Tony! You're just in time. Come on, come in. The gang's all here."


	14. Chapter 14

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

There is a difference between helping a druggie out with his paper and dating a drug dealer.

* * *

It feels as if the color drains from my face. Kind of the way I watch it drain from Edward's. Tony's … Whoever's.

He recovers quicker than I do, nodding at Felix in silent greeting before stepping past him and inside.

"You know the guys, Maggie." He nods again. "That there's Bella. We're in Art History together. She's here to help me with a paper. But she's cool, right?" Felix asks.

I nod even though I'm far from cool with this entire potentially illegal situation. I'm not cool with avoiding two-face then being trapped in a confined space with him. I'm not cool with confronting this. Not now. Maybe not ever. I'm not cool.

"If you say so," Edward says. Grabbing an empty milk crate from a pile in the corner, he flips it over, using it as a seat opposite the couch and then empties the contents of his pockets onto the coffee table. My eyes go wide at how many little bags of weed he's strung out before us. "Each one's an eighth. Sixty a piece or four fifty for the ounce."

"Four fifty? It was three fifty last month," one of the guys from Jewish studies complains.

Looking at his phone Edward shrugs. "What can I say? Inflation's a bitch." He hits a few keys then slides his phone back into his pocket. Resting his elbows on his knees, he clasps his hands, his gaze running down the line of guys before it lands on me. "Hurry up and decide. I don't have all night."

That one look says it all. The anger, the confusion, the hurt. That maybe he misses me just as much as I pretend to not be missing him. But then again how can two people miss each other when they haven't spent all that much time together in the first place?

My phone vibrates in my hand. I look down then hide the screen when I see it's a message from Edward.

He continues to stare at me until Felix sets a scale down on the table with the bags. Edward looks at it then up at Felix with an annoyed look on his face. "What's the matter? You don't trust me?"

"Oh, yeah. No doubt. No doubt, I do." Felix places his palm on his chest then points to the lineup of guys sitting beside me on the couch. "This is all Brady. See, man? I told you he'd be pissed."

Brady and Felix start to argue. Edward rolls his eyes before putting an end to their bickering with a forceful tone. "Shut the fuck up. The both of you before I make it four fifty an eighth."

The boys go silent.

I clear my throat. "Felix, where's your bathroom?"

Edward's eyes are back on me as I stand and adjust the hem of my sweater. They follow me until I pass by him, heading down the short hall. I fish out my phone to read his message once I'm behind closed doors.

You are alive.

I lick my lips, my fingers hovering over the keys. Technically I could keep ignoring him, but I don't know if I actually can. If I want to. Especially after seeing him again. And when he's just in the next room.

But I should. I need to.

Yeah, no. I can't.

 _ **Yep. Alive and well.** _ I write back, nibbling on my thumb nail, waiting until he writes me back.

 _I'm glad._

It's two simple words but they have the impact to loosen the tension in my shoulders. A small smile spreads across my face.

 _So I guess this means you can't handle it then._

I think about it, so sure I had made up my mind. I almost drop my phone when someone knocks. Please don't be ...

"Jesus, you fall in or what?" a female voice complains from the other side.

I breathe a sigh of relief, disappointed at the same time. "Sorry. Just a minute."

"Well, hurry up. I gotta get in there."

I glare at the door in annoyance then flush the toilet and turn on the water before telling Edward what I should have from the start.

 _ **Yeah, that's what it means.**_

Turning off the water, I check myself in the mirror, still not quite ready when I open the door to Maggie's impatient scowl.

I scowl back before maneuvering past her and into the living quarters to find Edward standing at the door getting ready to leave.

My heart nearly jumps out of my chest to follow but my sensible ribs cage it in, allowing me to take my spot back on the couch as Edward shakes Felix's hand, glancing at me one last time before leaving.

I breathe another sigh of relief.


	15. Chapter 15

Betad by kitchmill but mistakes are my own.

Preread by no one since Hoodie's been unavailable living her life.

Special thank you to bornonhalloween for inviting me to sprint and push myself to finally write something.

* * *

"Look at the lines. How they flow from one muted color to the next. Fluid, soft. Almost transparent in its delicacy. But is it delicate?" Mrs. Michaels asks. Cradling her chin, she puts her other hand on her hip, almost swaying in place while looking up at the projection on the whiteboard.

The classroom remains silent except for the sound of Felix rummaging through his backpack in search of his water bottle. It's hard not to judge what else he might have stashed away in there for later. But I don't. Much.

Instead of chiming in like I usually I do, I stare at the back of Lauren's head since I'm unable to see over the bun on top of it anyway. My glare zones in on the glittery piece of unicorn shit I never should have given her sitting on a stack of notes before focusing back on Mrs. Michaels as she turns to face the class.

"Even though O'Keeffe consistently denied the validity of Freudian interpretations of her art, works such as this"—she gestures toward the projection of O'Keefe's Black Iris again—"evoke a veiled representation of female genitalia."

Felix nearly spits out his swig of water.

"Did she just—" He wipes his chin.

"Compare the Mother of American Modernism's masterpiece to a loose va-jay-jay?" I ask, then nod. "Yeah. I think so."

Felix's eyebrows rise and he takes another drink of his water. The remainder of class consists of him and his growing discomfort. I have to say I'm surprised. He's never particularly struck me as a prude before.

All I see are vaginas now as Mrs. Michaels clicks through slide after slide of O'Keefe's paintings. Already familiar with them all, my attention falls to my phone I have lying on the desk in front of me. I click it just to see if maybe I missed a notification for a call or text from anyone, someone. Possibly the someone who hasn't called or texted me since I pretty much told him not to anymore.

My hand automatically goes to my chest to rub out the tightness thinking of Edward makes me feel now.

Why is it the one guy I've been interested in since moving here is a drug dealer? Why does it make him that much more attractive? Why can't I stop thinking about him? Why did I have to run into him in the first place? Why?

The lecture comes to an end and Felix stumbles over grabbing all of his stuff, chasing after me as I head up the stairs out of the classroom.

"So, that was interesting," he says, adjusting his strap farther up his shoulder.

"Art is always interesting."

"No doubt, no doubt. Hey, I don't think I actually ever thanked you for your help on my paper. You left in such a hurry the other night that I didn't really get to."

"It's no problem. Really."

"Okay, good. Cause I'm actually needing to ask another favor."

Oh, shit.

"Okay. What?"

"Well, as you probably guessed I'm not doing so hot. I really need help studying for this upcoming test. If I don't pass it then I'll have to get a hundred and twenty points of a ninety point final. You're smart. I'm sure you can do the math."

My troublesome caring nature rears its ugly head and won't allow me to say no. Damn her.

"Yeah, okay, but only if you come to my place. No Jewish club, no Maggie." And most importantly. "No drugs."

Felix huffs a laugh, adjusting his strap again. "Fair enough. So, see you tonight at six then?"

"Sure."

"Cool. Can I bring anything?"

"Just yourself and your book. I've got plenty of provisions."

Felix gives me a funny look. "Is that something we need for the test?"

I realize just how hopeless this all is. "Snacks, Felix. I've got plenty of snacks."

The sun is shining when I finally make it outside. A far cry from how the weather's been the last few months. It's almost warm enough for me to take my jacket off. Almost. I compromise by bypassing the bus stop and walking home instead.

The breeze plays with my hair, slipping under the ends and onto my scalp. My head automatically bends back in search of the warmth of the sunshine before it disappears behind a cloud.

I open my eyes to a church steeple, leading down to a cathedral that's a work of art in itself.

It really is a shame I don't take more time out of my busy schedule to explore the city. I honestly can't recall a time when I looked up from my feet to take notice.

In the midst of all this historic beauty, all I can think about is Miami. How different it is. Alive and loud with a background of salsa and laughter instead of buses and cars. The thing I miss most is the breeze. That and my mom. This is the first time I've really truly felt like I've missed her without an underlying of fear. I'm no longer afraid to be on my own. Maybe I just don't want to be anymore.

My phone vibrates in my pocket like she knew. Without looking at the screen I answer.

"Hey, Mom. What's up?"

"Hey, baby. How are you? Are you good? Are you having fun? Are you actually getting out and going to parties and not just staying cooped up in that shoebox of yours?" She goes on and on without waiting for any answers. Just as well since she won't like any of them anyway.

"I know your dad means well but he could at least help pay for a two bedroom. You could use a fun roommate. Oh, that reminds me. Have you talked your father? I know he'd love to hear from you. You should call. Or better yet, go over there. You can spy on Kathryn." She practically snarls and I hold back a sigh. "Let me know how fat she's gotten now that she has twins in there." My mom's lingering pain of losing her loving husband to a beautiful blonde girl who used to babysit me comes out as playful. But I can hear the bitterness in her voice. I grew up hearing it. Pretty sure it rubbed off too.

"Yeah, sure. I'll get right on that. Should I take them a gift as well? Maybe matching bibs that say 'My daddy's too old for this shit' perhaps?"

I hear chuckles on the other end of the line and smile. I've always been able to make her laugh through it at least.

"Okay, baby. Just promise you'll think about it. He may have found a new wife but no one will ever replace his first daughter. He still loves you." The line goes silent until—"Anyway, that wasn't why I was calling. I actually have some news." Her voice goes up at the end like she's worried about telling me what it is.

"Okay. What's the news?"

"You sure you're not too busy? I can always call back."

"Mom, just tell me." I hold back an exasperated sigh and close my eyes.

"I met somebody."

My eyes pop back open.

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Okay … Who?"

"His name is Phil. He's a high school baseball coach. He's so sweet, Bella. I really want you to meet him. I was thinking maybe you could come home for the weekend."

"I don't know, Mom," I say, even though it actually sounds kind of amazing.

"Oh, come on. It's on me."

"You mean Phil?" No way she can afford a round trip flight to and from Miami.

"All right, that's enough. Just take the rest of the day and think about it, okay? Tomorrow's Friday. You can leave after classes and be back before Monday morning when they start up again. And go see your dad. Snap some pics for me. I could use a good laugh."

A gust of wind blows into the receiver just as she hangs up. I can almost feel the warm breeze from Miami blowing through it and it smells like the ocean. That is, until a second gust of frigid wind blows up my nose and nearly knocks the breath out of me.

When I reach my apartment complex I fly past James' open office door to head upstairs to get changed for clinicals, but he catches me.

"Bella, do you have a minute?"

Damnit.

I reluctantly stop and turn to face him with a lift of my brows. "What's up?"

"It's about that guy you're seeing."

"I'm not seeing any guy."

"Yeah, sorry. I'm sure he's 'special.'" James flashes his famous quotation marks.

"No." Closing my eyes, I gum my lips and clench a fist. Why does talking to him always have to be so excruciating? "What I'm saying is I'm not seeing him. I'm not seeing anybody." But thanks for reminding me. "Why exactly are we talking about this?"

"Well, because he's been disturbing the other tenants."

"Disturbing? Disturbing how?"

"With his loitering, of course."

Whoa. "Wait. What?"

"The guy's been hanging around outside the apartment complex, hunkered down in a light blue Ford Taurus."

Okay. Not knowing what to say, I turn away from the conversation and start for the elevator again.

"Should I call the cops?" he yells after me.

I hesitate before shaking my head. "No. No, don't call the cops."

"Well, then can you at least tell him to stop?"

Push the button.

Wait.

"Bella?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

The elevator door dings open and I step inside, letting it close on James' wish for me to have a good rest of the day.

I can't decide if I should be happy, annoyed, or frightened with his stalkerish behavior. Thankfully I don't have much time to sit and stew about it.

In less than an hour I'm meeting up to follow along on a home visit for a young mother and her newborn baby. To say drugs have been involved would be an assumption, though a safe one. That's what most of our visits are for. Drugs and abuse.

Drugs and abuse everywhere.

Why am I getting into this field again?

Steady income.

Right.

Picking out an outfit is nearly impossible for one of these outings. There's no real dress code. I've seen everything from jeans to a nicely tailored suit.

I'm not as comfortable as the more lenient ones and pick a pair of black slacks and pink blouse then slip on my flats. Not too lax but not stuck up enough to make it look like I'm there to judge them any more than I already have.

Lately that feels like all I've been doing. Judging. I judged Miami. I judged Felix.

Edward.

Accurately, but still.

I know what kind of evening I'm in for when the bus pulls up to my stop and the person I'm following is in three inch heels.

"Ms. Swan from Banner's class?" she asks, adjusting her briefcase to hold out her hand. "I'm Victoria Jackson. I understand this is your third supervised home visit?"

"Fourth."

"Great, so I shouldn't have to explain too much. We should be out of here in no time. Let's go."

She explains the case on the walk up the stairs.

Alice Brandon, nineteen-year-old female. History of drug abuse.

Of course.

Heroin and OxyContin.

"Dad was the dealer," Victoria added with the lift of her brow and a touch of superiority. "This is my first time meeting with Ms. Brandon. I hear he's out of the picture. But you can never be sure. I also have no idea the state inside. There are usually warnings of any less than satisfactory conditions or bug infestation. But I'm sure you're used to all this by now."

I actually don't think I'll ever get used to it.

Victoria knocks then straightens her jacket, flashing me a closed-mouth smile just before the door cracks open and small pale girl with shoulder-length black hair peeks out.

I half expect Victoria to ask if her mother's home because she looks like a child herself. But the more attention I pay, I begin to notice her peaked complexion and the dark circles under her eyes.

"Ms. Brandon? Hi, I'm Victoria with Children and Family Services. I have Bella Swan here with me today. She's a student at the University of Chicago studying social work. Would it be okay for her to sit in on the visit with us this afternoon?"

She looks up at me then down at my feet. "I love those shoes. Where did you get them?"

"Oh, uh. Goodwill, I think." I glance down and pop up the toes of my shoes.

"You shop at the Goodwill?" She smiles and her shoulders visibly relax, making her look more comfortable than when we first arrived. "Me too."

I open my mouth to tell her about the rare designer blouse I found the other day but Victoria interrupts me by clearing her throat. "Ms. Brandon? Would you mind if Bella joins us today?" she asks again, a little firmer in an attempt to get our client back on track. We're no doubt making her uncomfortable with our instant bond over thrift shopping. It's clear this woman has never experienced the utter satisfaction of a good come-up.

"Oh, yeah sure. Sorry." Stepping back, she opens the door wider and gestures for us to come inside. "I sometimes get distracted." She points to her head. "Hence the drug use. They always calmed me down. Hushed the voices." The look Victoria gives her reminds her who she's talking to. "But I haven't used in months, I swear. And I'm on a legit medication for the other thing now. Do you need me to piss in a cup or something? Because I totally can."

"No, that won't be necessary."

"Okay well, would you mind if I go to the bathroom before we get started then? I've been holding it in all afternoon." She squirms in place.

Bless her heart.

"Of course you can. Go on. We can wait," I answer, and Alice takes off down the hall.

We take that extra time to glance around the room, making sure she's taken the proper precautions for child safety.

Everything looks pretty sound. Surprisingly clean. She even has nice furniture. Better than I ever did at nineteen.

"Ah, that's much better. Thank you. Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? I make a pretty mean glass of sweet tea." She covers the side of her mouth as if she's letting us in on something. "The secrets in the baking soda. Makes all the difference."

"No thank you, Ms. Brandon. We're good," Victoria answers for me like she knows my life. What if I wanted some tea?

Ever the graceful host, Alice turns to me anyway. "Bella?"

I gesture to say no thank you, and Alice sits.

"That's such a pretty name. Bella. Rolls right off the tongue. Doesn't it?" Alice smiles over at Victoria, who gives her a nod and tight smile.

Alice's smile falls flat.

"All right, then. Shall we get started?"

Alice sits back in her seat as Victoria jumps into interrogation mode, asking all kinds of personal questions. I guess it's just something I'll have to get used to. Butting into other people's lives like this.

"And how has the baby been eating? You're bottle feeding, correct?"

Alice nods. "Yes, ma'am."

"You're remembering small frequent feedings, yes?"

Alice nods again.

"Are they tolerating it well?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Good. And are you having any difficulty with purchasing the formula, proper clothing for the child? Any healthcare needs?" Victoria is so stiff and formal and opposed to gender-based pronouns. I wonder if she even took the time out to learn the child's sex.

"What is their name? If you don't mind me asking," I interrupt with a nagging need to know.

"Anthony. It's a family name."

The lock clicks, and we all look toward the door in synchronization as it creaks open and someone steps in lugging a bag full of groceries.

My heart falls thinking this is probably the drug-dealing father who's come back to destroy this sweet girl and their child's life.

It completely breaks when I realize it's Edward.


	16. Chapter 16

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

The way we keep running into each other lately makes me feel like my life's turned into some kind of cosmic joke.

Miami is looking more and more appealing when the door clicks shut behind Edward and Alice pops off the couch to wrap her arms around his waist.

"T! You're a lifesaver. And ooh, asparagus. Yum."

My nose scrunches on instinct. There's two words that should never go together.

Edward does his best not to acknowledge my presence and does a smooth sidestep out of Alice's grasp.

"Marcus texted me. Said you called and needed some things," he says while heading to the kitchen. I can hear him opening and closing cabinets. As if he's been around enough to know where everything goes and is putting stuff away.

How sweet and goddamn helpful.

Alice leaves him to do whatever he's doing and sits back down beside me on the couch with a stupid wide grin on her face.

I have a hard time paying attention to what all else Victoria says after that. My phone is going crazy in my purse. In the corner of my eye Edward paces past the kitchen entrance every once in a while, most likely trying to look like he's actually doing something besides attract my attention.

He has it.

"Bella?"

My attention snaps back to Victoria. My eyebrows raise. "I'm sorry?"

"Can you please go check the kitchen for any safety hazards? Miss Brandon, you can accompany me to the bathroom and bedrooms. We'll knock this out really quick and be out of your hair." She smiles over at Alice then shoots up out of her seat.

Alice follows her down the hall while I sit there rubbing the sweat off my palms with my pants, working up some courage.

Edward's casually leaning on the counter. One hand in his jean pocket, the other holding his phone. The hood of his sweatshirt is hanging over the collar of his heavy duty jacket. His hair damp from fresh rain. It makes my mind wander to showers and how he'd look stepping out of one. I want to know if he showers here. If he lives here. I want to know what he's been up to since I last saw him. Taking care of a baby? His baby?

He looks up when he realizes someone's standing there staring at him.

The silence is so awkward I think I might die. But then I breathe. "I wasn't expecting to see you here." Or anywhere ever again for that matter.

"Ditto."

"I swear I'm not stalking you."

"Mmhm, sure."

"I'm not." Not like you apparently have been me. "You remember me telling you how I'm in school for social services?"

"I remember."

"Well, this is me social servicing," I tell him, stepping further into the kitchen.

He crosses his Carhartt-covered arms over his chest as I draw closer. "I see."

I can feel him watching me as I snoop around for outlet covers and cabinet locks and what not. He doesn't budge when I make it around to stand right beside him.

"Excuse me."

I can feel the chill of the cool breeze that's burrowed itself into his jacket. Can smell his cologne when he pushes himself off the counter and out of my way so I can check the last of the cabinets.

"Everything looks good here."

"Yeah well, it should since I'm the one who did it."

Okay, this just keeps getting weirder.

"Well, congratulations for being so handy."

He gives me a look like he's not sure how to respond. "Thank you?"

More silence settles between us but this time it doesn't make me feel awkward. It fuels my fire and infuriates me.

"You've got some nerve, ya know?"

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. How's that now?"

"That girl in there." I point my thumb over my shoulder.

"Alice?"

"Yes, her."

"What about her?"

"Well, I know she's not your sister unless you lied about that, too. A cousin maybe," I mostly say to myself. My nerves have me rubbing the skin off my forehead. "Just tell me it wasn't you."

"Wasn't me what?"

"The one who gave her the drugs. Tell me you didn't do it. Tell me … just tell me you're not the father."

He scoffs a laugh. "So what if I did?" Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugs then pulls one hand out like he doesn't know what to do with them. "So what if I am?" He holds his palm up then makes a fist before running his fingers through his hair. "You already said you want nothing to do with me. I'm not good enough for you, remember?"

"I never said you weren't good enough."

"So, what then?"

"I just … don't approve."

"Same difference. Look, no hard feelings, all right? I get where you're coming from and you're right. You shouldn't approve. You shouldn't be around me, especially if you don't want to be."

"Is that why you've been lurking around my building? Because I shouldn't be around you?" It's my turn to scoff a laugh. "You're freaking everybody out by the way. Maybe you should take your own advice."

"Oh, you think I haven't tried? You think I haven't tried not lying awake at night thinking about you? You think I haven't tried to forget how this feels?" He touches his chest and my mind seizes. "Ya know, just because you don't want to be around someone doesn't mean they don't want to be around you."

"Bella?"

I whip around the same moment Victoria steps into the kitchen.

"Everything okay in here?"

Not really.

"Yeah. Everything's fine. We're all good here." I glance back at Edward to give him a look that says "but we're not" before following Victoria into the living room to officially end our visit.

Once I'm out of the rain and on the bus I dial my mom.

An escape from Chicago is looking pretty good right now.

* * *

I know. Some of these chapters are so short I'm annoying myself. Maybe one day I'll write a full story before posting. I doubt it but maybe.


	17. Chapter 17

Betad by kitchmill

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

My phone pings every five seconds with a new message, I swear.

I wait until I get home to look for fear of reading something that may soften my resolve and make me turn back. But when I'm finally at a safe distance and locked behind closed doors I see there was nothing to fear since all the messages are from my mother.

 _Where are you?_

 _Have you decided if you're coming or not?_

 _The tickets are reduced price but we have to act fast._

I roll my eyes.

 _Do you still like mashed potatoes with your meatloaf?_

Random.

 _When's the last time you had a home cooked meal anyway? You looked skinny in the last picture you sent. Have you been eating enough?_

My mind wanders to grilled cheese but I shake the memory away. I don't want to go there.

 _Okay, mashed potatoes and meatloaf it is then._

The insanity doesn't stop there but goes on another four spastic text messages.

 _So, what's happening?_

 _Are you coming or what?_

 _Should I buy the ticket?_

 _Bella? Are you ever going to answer me?_

I shoot her a quick reply telling her to get the ticket and send me the itinerary before she has an aneurysm then place an order for Chinese takeout.

I've just finished choosing what outfits to pack and am getting ready to jump in the shower when there's a knock at the door.

That was quick.

Grabbing my robe off the towel rack I head to the door, tying the belt tight around my waist before cracking it open. I'm surprised by who I find on the other side.

"Felix, hey."

"You forgot I was coming."

"No, no."

Yep. Totally forgot.

"I uh, was just getting comfortable." I internally cringe. Did that just sound like an invitation for sex? Lord. "Come in, come in." I wave him inside then spot check the hallway before closing the door.

"You can just throw your jacket anywhere. Not like it matters." My living room looks like a laundromat exploded after five p.m. "Just doing some light packing."

"Oh, you going somewhere?"

"Yeah, Miami. I thought I'd visit my mom for the weekend."

"Nice. Sounds fun."

"Yeah. So, do you want something to drink before we get started?"

"You got beer?"

"No beer. Sorry. I don't really drink it. But uh, I think there's some wine leftover from when I had the girls over. Let me check."

Felix makes himself at home on the spot I clear off the couch and I head into the kitchen. All of my unromantic cups are dirty so I shrug, fill up a couple of stemless wine glasses and head back into the living room because why not? I'm already in my bathrobe. How much worse can it get?

The next knock on my door answers that question.

Great.

I run my hands down the front of my robe. No time to change.

Damnit.

"That's the food I ordered." I point to the door. " I hope you like Chinese. I got enough for two."

"Yeah, definitely."

"Cool."

Grabbing the cash off the counter I head for the door in my bathrobe for the second time this evening. And I'll be damned if it's still not the Chinese.

You've got to be kidding.

"What are you doing here?"

Wide green eyes run down the length of my body, lingering on my legs before bothering to look me in the eye.

I clasp my robe at the neck but that only draws the attention back to my chest.

"Tony, hey!" Felix calls out from behind us.

Edward's eyes narrow as he glances over my shoulder and sees my guest. He nods once in greeting.

Felix raises two fingers in the air. "What are you doing in B's neck of the woods, man? I thought you two didn't know each other."

"We don't," I assure Felix, simultaneously pushing Edward and stepping out into the hallway with him to ask again, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see if you'd cooled down enough to talk some sense into."

"Sense. Into me?"

"Obviously."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He jerks his head in the direction of my apartment. "What are you doing with that asshole?"

What the ...

"Felix? I'm helping him study. And he's hardly an asshole."

"Right."

"He isn't."

"How would you know when you've never seen him sober?" Edward looks away, shaking his head. "I don't like you hanging out with him. He ..." Gumming his lips, he lightly pounds the wall with his fist. "You shouldn't be around him. It's not safe. He's a druggie."

"You're his dealer!" I laugh back, shutting up real quick when Edward steps in my space.

He's so close I can smell the rain on him again. It mixes so well with whatever scent he's wearing. Something fresh and light. Clean and sexy.

He looks sexy. Especially with the wet hair and lips red-tinged from the cold. Leaning a shoulder against the wall somehow makes him twice as cute as he was before.

Stop it.

"Is that all you see when you look at me?" he asks, catching me off guard. I completely expected a rebuttal. A fight for his budding self righteousness. Maybe how supplying drugs isn't as bad as doing them.

Instead he plays on my emotions. Giving me that look. The one that says I'm harmless. You can trust me.

But he's not and I can't.

"It's kind of hard not to."

Scratching his forehead he smiles without humor and huffs a laugh. "Hm. Okay then, enjoy your date."

"It's not a date," I correct as he pushes off the wall.

Instead of walking away like he should he runs a finger along the sagging collar of my robe. I readjust it before I end up giving him a show.

"Does he know that?" He nods at the wall Felix is waiting behind. Pausing briefly before leaving me to ponder that question just as the delivery guy shows up.

I change into something more appropriate then dig into the pork fried rice like it's the solution to all my problems.

How the hell Edward turned this situation around on me I'll never know. For now I'll just blame the robe.

When Felix finally leaves I hop in the shower to wash off this mess of a day.

There's a new message with my itinerary from my mother waiting when I get out.

I leave bright and early.

Thank Christ.

…

The heat of Miami hits me face-first followed by the rest of my body. I start to sweat right before the breeze takes pity, and I begin cursing myself and my mother for talking me into coming back.

"Don't you miss it, baby? The sun? The sand? The sounds?" My mom shimmies her shoulders to the Salsa music wafting through the lowered windows.

You mean the burns? The chaffing? The sleepless nights?

No.

I glance at her dancing out the corner of my eye.

Well, maybe a little.

She nudges my arm, and I give in with a smile.

Okay, yes. A lot actually. But only because things are simpler here. My mother's here.

Looking out the window I go back to frowning.

And there's no Edward.

Or Tony or Anthony.

A few more blocks and we pull up to a fancy condominium. Palm trees and bright green grass surround the tall white building. Way too expensive for a high school baseball coach.

"Where are we?"

"Phil's parents' place." She shuts the door on our conversation and pulls my bag out of the back. Meeting me on the sidewalk she notices the apprehensive look on my face. "Don't worry. They're not here." She takes off for the entrance and I follow her.

"Okay, that's nice. But what about our house?" She ignores me, struggling with the door until I prop it open for her. "Mom? What about our house?" I repeat calmly just in case she didn't hear me the first time. "Why can't we stay there?" I sure would feel a whole lot more comfortable. This is what this visit is all about. Familiarity and comfort.

She hurries to the elevator, still ignoring me until the doors shut and I start to lose my cool. "What the hell, Mom? What's going on? Why aren't you answering me?"

Sighing, she glances over her shoulder. "You gotta promise you're not going to get upset."

I will do no such thing. In fact I'm already upset. "Mom."

"I stopped making the payments."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Bella," she warns, but her tone doesn't deter me.

"Why would you do that?" It was the first place that truly felt like home after my dad left. It was cute and yellow with a closed-in porch and swing to lounge around in and read on rainy days.

I wait a second before going full-on impatient kid mode. "Mom … Mom … Mom!"

"Because I couldn't make them, okay?" she blurts just as the elevator dings then opens.

We flash the people waiting outside a synchronized smile even though neither of us are feeling it.

I follow her out into the hallway, silent and glaring at her backside until we're out of earshot and at the condo door.

"Mom."

"Not now, Bella. We'll talk about this later, okay? Just not right now." She pleads with her eyes, touching the side of my face before she opens the door and a gust of cold air rolls out, pulling us inside.

The space is light and airy with stark white paint, a whole wall full of windows and sliding glass doors leading out to a balcony overlooking the ocean. I guess it'll do for my new reading spot.

"Honey!" My mother addresses her new guy with the same term of endearment she used for my dad and every other guy that came after him. The sound of it makes my stomach uneasy. "We're home!"

Hardly.

"Where are you?"

I can't imagine ever calling a place like this home or the guy who lived here honey, or any other pet name for that matter. Maybe it's because that level of intimacy makes me uncomfortable. Or simply the fact that every guy she's ever given one to hasn't stuck around.

The toilet flushes and the man I suspect is the reason I'm here steps out into the living room. Dressed as casual as a teenage boy, his backward baseball cap makes him appear half my mom's age.

Is she sure she didn't mean high school baseball player, not coach? This baby face is too young to be a coach.

"Baby, this is Phil."

He wipes his palms on his basketball shorts then starts to reach out his hand before pulling it back. Probably remembering he just came out of the bathroom and didn't wash his hands. Nice.

"Phil, honey, this is Bella. My baby." Mom gathers the hair hanging over my shoulders then smooths it down my back. I awkwardly stand there feeling like a little girl as Phil tells me how much he's heard and how glad he is to finally meet me.

I return the less than enthusiastic sentiment even less enthusiastically. We stand there in silence some more until my mom encourages Phil to show me around the place.

After the grand tour of the condo, they leave me alone in the guest room to freshen up and relax a little before dinner.

I can't believe I have to endure two more days of this. My life is just overflowing with awkwardness.

Sprawling out on the bed, I play with all the apps on my phone in an attempt to ignore the fact I still have no messages from Edward, three from Felix, and one from Angela.

I let Ang and Felix know I landed safely, but let Felix's request to let him know when I get back go ignored. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. We'll see.

Mom's meatloaf and mashed potatoes are waiting for me when I wake from an unexpected nap three hours later.

Mom never was one for social cues but surprises me after dinner when she suggests leaving Phil behind while us two girls go for a walk on the beach.

With the wind in our hair and sand between our toes I almost hate to bring the issue of the house up again. But I have to know.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Looking out at the blackened ocean, Mom lets out a sigh. "I don't know. I should have but I was afraid you wouldn't come if you knew."

Well, that's just silly but a hundred percent accurate.

"So, what happened? I thought dad was sending you more than enough."

A light bulb goes off over my head. I stop where I stand. "He stopped paying you alimony, didn't he? That mother f—"

"Bella."

"No, Mom. He doesn't get to. He doesn't get to go off and start another family and leave you in the lurch like that. What the … I'm going to call him." And tell him he can give the money he gives me to Mom. Better yet, shove it up his ass. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and go to dial but Mom grabs it out of my hands.

"Please don't. It will only make things worse. Besides, I have Phil now. You see what kind of money he's got. He can take care of me. Said so himself. He wants to."

"That's his parents' money, Mom."

"Same difference, baby. You know, he's got a one bedroom bungalow just down the way." She points down the beach. "We just decided to come here for the weekend so there'd be more room, you'd have your own bedroom." She tassels the ends of my hair and smiles thoughtfully. "He really is sweet. You'd see that if you'd just give him a chance."

"And what about when it's over? What then?"

Her smile falls with her hand. She gives me back my phone and starts walking back the way we came, taunting me over her shoulder just as I notice the notification for a new message.

"So, tell me about this Edward."

* * *

Yes! Edward messaged her!

Aaaaahhhh!

Fun fact: I fucking hate meatloaf.


	18. Chapter 18

Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own. I added.

Preread by Hoodie

I've been advised to cut this chapter in two and add dialogue, therefore I'll get you part two tomorrow sometime :) you're in for a treat.

* * *

I stare down at my phone at the message.

 _I'm outside. Let me in. We need to talk._

I kind of wish I could. Even though he didn't say please.

I kind of want to let Edward in. Even if he doesn't have any manners.

I kind of want to talk to him. Even though I'm mad at him because he drives me crazy and our conversations never seem to lead anywhere.

 _I would but I'm not home right now._

I write back almost immediately and get an intrusive, bossy response in return.

 _Where are you then? I'll meet you._

Yeah … No.

 _Miami._

 _Florida?_

 _Yep. Visiting my mom._

"Bella?" My mom's voice sounds a little less muffled between the crashing waves. "Who is this Edward?"

Another message comes through distracting me from answering her.

 _When are you coming back?_

Shaking my head, I shrug. "He's nobody." Lie. "Just some guy." However, the way I dive nose-deep back into my phone tells her otherwise.

When I resurface, she gives me a look like she doesn't believe me then throws her arm over my shoulder. I shove my phone in my back pocket as we head for the condo.

We find Phil out on the balcony. I excuse myself to my room for the night so Mom can join him to do whatever it is that they do.

After I unpack some PJs I pull them on and wiggle under the blankets, giving full attention to my phone again.

The last message Edward sent is still glaring up at me, unanswered. He probably thinks I'm ignoring him.

Good.

 _I'll be back Sunday night. We can talk then._

I turn on the TV and stare at the screen for a minute before switching it back off. As soon as I close my eyes an unfamiliar sound comes from the bedside table.

What the …

Is that my ringtone?

When I glance over, Edward's name shines up at me.

Oh shit, it _is_ my ringtone.

Edward's actually calling me.

My eyes widen, my finger hovering over the swipe. I try to swallow down the oncoming anxiety attack. It gets stuck in my throat but I successfully clear it right before answering.

"Hello?"

All right. Nice clear voice. No shakiness. Totally cool. I've got this.

"Hey." His voice sounds deeper than in person. The tiredness in it snuggling against the receiver and into my ear, making me dizzy. But in a good way. A very nice, very warm, very good way.

Stop it.

"Hey," is all my mushy brains can come up with. I roll my eyes into the dark then close them, picturing him on the other line. The question "what are you wearing" filters through my mind but I refrain from asking it, choosing instead to picture him in a plain white T-shirt and jeans. No shoes. Just socks. He's leaning back on his couch, legs spread apart like a typical guy.

"How's Miami?"

"Hot." I smile when he blows a light breath into the phone.

"I bet. You already been to the beach?"

"Of course."

"Of course," he repeats, sending us into another bout of short silence.

I can hear him breathing. Can envision his chest rising and falling. There's something intrinsically comforting about it. I don't know if it's him or me missing home but it makes me want to confide in him what I can't my mom.

"It's actually been a pretty shitty trip so far."

"Oh, yeah? How so?"

I take a preparatory breath. "Well, my mom sold our house without me knowing. Now I'm having to spend an uncomfortable weekend in a sterile condo with her and her boyfriend who's possibly young enough to be my brother."

"Mm, that does sound pretty shitty."

"I know, right? I mean, what is she thinking?"

He stays silent like he knows I'm not finished.

"And it gets worse. The only reason she sold the house was because my dad, who _is_ with and impregnated someone young enough to be my sister, stopped paying alimony." I make a sound sort of like a sarcastic laugh but sadder.

I can tell he's not sure what to say so he doesn't say anything. I don't blame him. I wouldn't know what to say either.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to unload on you like that."

"You can unload on me. I don't mind."

"Really?"

"Yeah, anytime."

He sounds so genuine. It does something to my chest.

"Okay … Thanks."

"Sure thing."

Looking down at my hand, I imagine him holding it. I stretch my fingers then squeeze the comforter almost feeling it. Really wish he were here so I could.

"So what is it you wanted to talk about?" I ask in an attempt to beat my imagination down. But it continues to run wild. Wondering if he wishes he were here instead of where he is.

Oh, God. What if he's at Alice's. What if she's just in the other room, or worse, sitting beside him? That would just be weird.

"About the other day."

I almost forgot what we were talking about.

"What about it?"

"I, uh. I wanted to apologize."

 _Apologize? Him?_

I imagine him roughly rubbing his eyes with his free hand. This has to be suffocating his ego. It's so unlike him.

"Apologize for what?"

He pauses. I bet he's looking annoyed as hell too. "For how I've acted."

I smirk at his apparent discomfort with the direction this conversation is heading. It makes me feel a little less vulnerable and a whole hell of a lot better.

"Oh? And how have you acted?"

Another pause.

"Like an asshole."

"I'm sorry, what? The phone cut out. I didn't hear you."

He hums a laugh into my ear. The vibrations travel down my neck into my chest, spreading throughout my entire body.

It takes my breath away.

"I can't stop thinking about it. Ever since we met."

My eyebrows jump. "How you've been an asshole? I can't stop thinking about it since we met either."

He sniffs another laugh.

"So, that's it? No I miss you? Can't wait to see you again?" I tease, only somewhat serious.

"No."

My heart sinks into my stomach. I shouldn't have said anything. It was stupid.

"No, what?"

"I do."

"Do what?" I've honestly confused myself now.

"Miss you and want to see you again. I wanted to see you tonight, but ..."

Miami, I know.

Boy did I like hearing that way more than I should've.

"I feel like …" he continues then stops.

I encourage him to keep going. "Yeah …"

He lets out a low sigh.

 _Go ahead. Say it._

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Like I always miss you or something."

Okay, now I'm suspicious. "Just how much have you had to drink?"

He belts out a laugh. "Nothing at all. I swear. This is me a hundred percent sober. This is how I feel. I want you to know. I need you to know. After, if you still don't want to be with me then I'll leave you alone. For good this time. Either way this is happening."

 _Okay, damn._

"Is that okay with you?"

His honesty is annoyingly disarming.

"Okay." It comes out more breathy than I anticipated.

"I actually think about you all the time."

 _Oh, wow._

Was not expecting that. And now I think I'm hyperventilating. The room is spinning.

"It's kind of hard not to."

Yeah, I know the feeling. It's just kind of hard to imagine it being about myself.

"You know that shirt you gave me?"

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to slow down the spinning by holding my head in my hand. Pay attention. Chill. Focus. "Borrow, you mean."

"Yeah, we'll see. Anyway, like I was saying. This shirt, it still smells like you." He sniffs.

My eyes pop open, dizziness subsided. "Did you just—Are you?"

"Wearing it? Yeah. Every night. Keeps the nightmares away."

"You usually have nightmares?" I ask, now concerned.

"No. Just thought it sounded good."

Asshole.

I roll my eyes.

If he were beside me I would hit him.

"You're such a jerk."

"I don't mean to be." Amusement lightens his voice. "You're just too easy. And I mean that in the best possible way."

I side-eye the phone. "Uh-huh, right."

"There's nobody else I'd rather drive crazy."

 _Well, aren't I just the luckiest girl in the world._

"What about Alice? You don't like to drive her crazy?"

A silence falls over us again, killing the easy banter we've had from the beginning. It really does drive me crazy thinking he could share that with another girl.

"It's not like that."

"Then tell me what it's like."

"We're friends. Hardly even that. I'm not with her. I never have been and never would be."

Wait, then ...

"Anthony's not mine."

A weight lifts off my heart.

"I'm sorry I let you think he could be. I don't know why I did that. It was stupid."

Yeah, it was. But we both could have handled it better.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Probably not.

"Marcus, my boss. He's Alice's father."

"Okay …"

"Anyway, he's busy. Out of town a lot, ya know? So, he sends me over there to take care of things that he can't. Groceries. Making sure the baby's okay, Alice is staying straight and that asshole hasn't come back."

Ah.

"Anyway, Marcus seems to think she trusts me more than the other guys. Like she took to me from the beginning or something. I don't know."

"No. No, I get it. You're like the closet good guy. That's why she named her baby after you." My weightless heart is now melting. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you're actually super sweet or anything."

Edward blows out another laugh into the receiver. "I wouldn't go that far. Maybe better than the others. But that's not saying much."

I think he's being uncharacteristically modest and it's saying a lot more than he's letting on.

This battle that's been waging inside me doesn't seem so conflicting anymore. And that in itself is conflicting. If that even makes any sense.

The fact that he's wrapped up in this drug business is starting to matter less and less. Like or love, whichever it is. It's growing stronger, making me more and more stupid. And I'm starting to care about being stupid less and less.

I'm kind of glad we're on different ends of the country for this conversation, otherwise I might have ended up giving in and crawling up onto his lap or something.

I don't know if it's the heat of Miami, the sticky seawater still lingering on my skin, or simply how I find myself wanting him, but it's making me super uncomfortable. And in more ways than one.

If I can't stay away from him maybe it's best to try and push him away from me.

"Ok, since we're being honest, I want you to tell me what happened the night I found you. I want to know how you got caught up in this and if you plan on ever getting out. Have you ever done the drugs yourself?"

"No, I swear. Cigarettes are as bad as it gets. Trust me, I have enough trouble kicking those. I can't afford to try the harder stuff. Besides, I never really wanted to."

This may be the stupid but I believe him.

"The other things we can talk about when you get back. There's just too much to explain. I don't want to do it over the phone."

Fair enough.

With all that seriousness out of the way, we spend a good portion of the night talking about anything and everything that isn't serious at all.

Before his voice can lull me to sleep, we make plans for him to pick me up from the airport on Sunday when I get back so we can talk.

My stomach is in knots the rest of the weekend just hoping I didn't dream everything. I can hardly enjoy the rest of my trip. Not laying out, soaking up the sun. Not being guilted into dancing in front of everyone at that street party by my mom. Not even the peacefulness of floating out on the ocean, deep sea fishing off of Phil's boat.

I get one more magnificent Miami sunset before heading back to the cold of Chicago. But I'm far from freezing when I see Edward waiting for me at baggage claim just like he said he would be.

* * *

... until tomorrow.


	19. Chapter 19

Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own.

Preread by Hoodie

So, the more I think about it the more I'm freaking out about this chapter. You'll probably either love it or hate it. Hopefully you love it. I definitely have kitch to thank for pushing me to write more of a dialogue in the last chapter which helps lead into this. Anyway, here it goes. *closes eyes and posts*

* * *

I don't know whether to hug Edward, shake his hand, or simply wave. So, I end up doing none of those things.

"Hey." It's better than nothing.

"Hey, your trip get any better?"

I shrug and give him a look that says not so much but I guess it could've been worse.

Brow raised, he returns it with a slanted smirk.

"That's me." I point to my bag as it rides by on the conveyor belt.

I go to reach for it but Edward's faster.

"All this for one weekend away?"

"Yeah, no. _That_ is from a shopping trip with my mom. She went a little overboard and ended up having to buy me a new suitcase just so I could get it all home. I think she feels a little guilty, ya know? For selling the house without telling me."

Edward nods. "Makes sense." He pauses, as if to make sure I don't want to talk about it out here in public before realizing I don't. "You ready?"

 _For this?_

I think about us.

Not really.

"Yeah."

"Good, cause I'm illegally parked."

Of course he is.

"Let's go." He gestures with a jerk of his head just before taking off.

Seeing as my legs are a lot shorter than his I have some trouble keeping up. I about trip over my own two feet when he suddenly stops, reaches out behind him, and takes my hand. It's surprisingly warm given how cold it is outside.

My eyes lock where we're tightly connected then follow his jacket sleeve up to his scruffy jaw.

It's alarming how much trust I'm putting into him after one revealing phone conversation. Maybe it's just because I can't trust myself anymore. Especially when it comes to him.

He keeps ahold of me until we get to his car where he opens the door for me to get in.

"You hungry? Wanna get some lunch?"

I think for a minute then give him a shy smile. "I've actually been craving grilled cheese."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. If you don't mind."

"Nope, not at all."

We let the radio fill the airspace on the way to my apartment. I bite my tongue the whole way, hoping he'll tell me everything I want to know in his own time.

His own time just better be sometime today.

James eyes us cautiously when Edward and I walk through the lobby together. I wave, letting him know I'm with Edward of my own free will and to not call the police.

I'm a little embarrassed by the mess I left before heading down to Miami to escape the guy who's now rummaging around my kitchen in search of everything he needs to make me one of those incredibly mediocre grilled cheeses.

"I'm having déjà vu," he says to the pan in front of him.

I lean against the counter behind me. "Really? 'Cause if I remember right, you were a lot less dressed the last time we did this."

He glances over his shoulder, brow raised.

I have to admit I'm a little surprised too. Especially when he sets down the spatula and reaches for the hem of his shirt to pull it up over his head.

I swallow, focused on how the muscles in his back move as he balls up the shirt and tosses it on top of one of my piles of clothes then casually goes back to flipping the sandwiches.

The air gets thinner the longer I stare at his backside. How low his jeans hang. How I can see the thick black waistband of his underwear peeking out from underneath them. His shoulders are broad and sturdy. Perfectly squared even when hunched and held together with a thin blue line.

There's a snap in my brain and suddenly everything falls into place.

A thin blue line.

The boys in blue.

My dad taught me about this.

Edward's a cop.

Reaching out to run my finger along the tattoo, I realize I've stopped breathing, subconsciously moving closer this whole time.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, my lips dangerously close to his skin. Things would have been so much different. So much easier. Why didn't he just tell me?

"I wanted to." He turns off the stove, removes the pan from the burner, then turns to face me. "I was going to."

My mouth is level with his breast bone but my hand touches him first. Followed by the other.

His hands go to cradle my face. He lifts my chin, the tips of his fingers brushing the back of my neck as he presses his lips to mine.

The kiss is chaste at first. Like an unspoken apology.

It's me that asks for more, my mouth opening to invite his tongue inside.

I let him know I want this by pressing into it and welcoming his warmth by running my hands up his chest, rising to my tiptoes, and wrapping my arms around his neck.

Heat rises but it's not coming from the stove. Pretty soon I'm attempting to climb him like a tree.

Either he's into it or taking pity on me when he backs us up, lifting me to sit on the counter.

Breaking away for a quick breather, he places himself between my legs, pulling my hips forward to press into the seam of his jeans before our mouths meet again.

We're a flurry of eager arms but he's unsure how far to take it until I push him away, hooking my legs around the back of his so he can't go far while I remove my shirt and unclasp my bra.

I watch him watch the straps fall, replacing the loosened cups with his palms as I lean in for another deep kiss.

 _Oh, God. What is happening? What am I doing? We're supposed to be talking._

He lightly squeezes and I moan into his mouth, spurring him on.

 _Screw talking. What's there to talk about? I've got all the answers I need._

 _Come on._

 _Ravage me._

 _Do it._

Abandoning my lips, he kisses my jaw and my neck, recklessly working his way down my chest to cover my nipple.

 _Oh God. Yes._

My hands fly to the back of his head. I bury my fingers in his hair for encouragement, but mostly support for myself.

His mouth is hot as fire, trailing flames along the surface of my skin. But the only pain I feel is the ache building between my legs.

I try to pacify it by rubbing against him, but it's not enough. My fingers go for the front of his jeans. The fabric of his underwear rubs against my knuckles as I pop the button and lower the zipper, partially freeing the growing hardness.

With his jeans loosened I can run my hands around his hips, helping the material fall around his knees. I plunge my hands into his underwear, pulling them down to squeeze his ass and ask for more.

If it's possible my heart beats even faster when he backs away, going straight for the waistband of my leggings. I lift and he pulls, discarding them somewhere behind him.

For a moment we stare at each other, most likely catching our breath and trying to comprehend what's happening. We don't think about it too long before his lips are back on mine and he's spreading my thighs, ready for me.

"Wait, wait," I mumble against his lips, pushing lightly on his chest. Is this happening? Do I want it to? "There's condoms in that bottom drawer." I point with my toe. Okay, apparently I do. I really, really do.

He gives me a confused yet amused look.

"The girls needed a place for their sex toy party and they used them as balloons, okay?" I shrug. "Now shut up and grab one."

Doing as I say, he fishes one out, leaving his mouth level with a very excited part of me and my head very dizzy.

My breath staggers. I lean back to brace myself as he kisses his way up the inside of my thigh, simultaneously ripping open the package and covering himself.

My legs move of their own accord, brushing against his scruff then spreading wider when his mouth moves in closer.

I watch his lips cover me, grabbing the back of his head when he parts my lower lips with his tongue.

 _Oh God. Oh God. Oh God._

It slips in and out, glistening under the fluorescent lighting as he teases me in a slow sensuous motion. His jaw stretches with each lick, contracting slightly when he re-wets his tongue and presses into me harder. The ache builds and flutters deep inside. All too much but still not enough.

My eyes roll up then close, popping back open when he pulls away and stands up, hooking his hands under my knees to pull my ass to the edge of the counter.

Wrapping an arm around my waist, he guides himself to my opening, taking my breath away how he wastes no time sliding inside.

I suck in a shocked breath, wrapping an arm around his neck as he slowly begins to move.

A charge of emotion jolts through me when he looks away from where we're joined and into my eyes.

I wonder if he sees what I see.

Want.

If he feels what I feel.

Need.

Still holding me firmly in place by my waist, his other hand wanders my body. Jaw to stomach to breast and back again.

I'm nearly hyperventilating under the eagerness of his palm.

In all my sexual experiences before this I never felt so wanted, so connected, so in the moment with someone else.

He's attentive and assertive. Somehow making me feel so good all I can think about is him and what he's doing to my body.

Leaning his forehead against mine, he squeezes my hip and lets a low moan slip, which only excites me more.

The heat intensifies, burning me from the inside out as the pressure steadily builds.

I can tell he's getting close, too, by the way he moves, stuttering his thrusts with low strained grunts.

Throwing my other arm around his neck, I pull myself closer, pressing my breasts to his chest and my groin harder into his to gain more friction.

He gets the idea, tightening his grip on my ass.

That's all I need.

The tingling starts in my toes, shooting up my thighs. My brain goes hazy, letting control slip from my body in the form of a long moan.

He matches it, pulsating inside me at the same time I clench around him. The intensity is too great not to close my eyes to fully appreciate it. I barely resist biting into his shoulder with wave after wave slamming into me.

As steady as it came, the high fades way too fast. I keep waiting for regret to surface but it doesn't. Not yet.

His grip morphs into more of a lazy hug.

Lowering my arms from around his neck, I cradle his face, searching his relaxed features.

"What?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing." He notices, brushing back a hair before fingering the crease in the center of my forehead.

Grabbing his hand, I kiss then nip the pads of his fingers. Playful, like our typical communication. Only naked.

He huffs out a laugh, leaning in to pay me back with a bite to my neck.

I squeal and try to push him away. But teeth turn to lips and breath to tongue and holy shit, I'm ready to go at it again already.

"Mmm."

He really does make it his life's purpose to drive me crazy, whether it be running his mouth or those lips up my neck to nestle behind my ear.

Nothing about this feels wrong. Just the opposite, in fact. It feels right. However, that doesn't stop me from being scared.

I don't know which is worse: Edward actually being a drug dealer or the very real possibility of him getting caught while undercover as one.

* * *

AN: The tattoo on Edward's back is a thin blue line. A blue line is an indicator of law enforcement. Edward is in fact undercover.

Also in chapter 4 when Edward takes his shirt off in front of Bella she only sees his chest very quickly before he puts on another shirt. So, she never had a chance to see the tattoo on his back.


	20. Chapter 20

Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own.

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

It's not War and Peace but it's something.

* * *

Previously on The Curb … Edward and Bella did it.

 _Nothing about this feels wrong. Just the opposite, in fact. It feels right. However, that doesn't stop me from being scared._

 _I don't know which is worse: Edward actually being a drug dealer or the very real possibility of him getting caught while undercover as one._

* * *

Once the euphoria subsides I come to my senses, hitting Edward's shoulders with an audible smack.

"Hey, what the hell?" he asks.

"Exactly." I wholeheartedly agree. "What the hell?"

He gives me a look as if to throw the question right back at me. My fingers itch to trace the lines in his forehead then flick him right in the center of it.

"Care to explain?"

Like I should have to. "Your tattoo."

"My tattoo?"

"Yeah. The one on your back."

"What about it?"

He can't be serious. Eyes closed, I run a hand across the bulging vein in my forehead then down the bridge of my nose. "It screams, hey lookey here!" I open my eyes to his adorably curious but incredibly stupid face and sarcastically wave a hand in the air. "I'm a snitch! Come kill me! That tattoo," I specify, pushing against his chest in attempt to get him to move out of the way. But his hands fly up to wrap around my wrists, holding them and me in place.

"I believe the correct term is spy. It's more manly. Kind of like I'm James Bond. In a sense."

I ignore his rambling. "I mean, how stupid can you be?" It's all just a big joke. Everything's a joke to him.

He huffs an unbelieving laugh. "Jesus, calm down. You're starting to sound like the Captain."

Sounds like a smart man.

"Do you want to die? Do you have a death wish?"

His stupid smirk infuriates me to no end. Why did I have to get naked with him?

"Aw, is that what this is all about? You're worried about me?" he goads like he always does, and I resist retaliation in the form of a titty twister.

My answering frown only makes him smile wider. I halfheartedly push against him again. His warm fingers wrap a little tighter around my wrists. I fight the impulse to close my eyes and snuggle into him.

Why does this have to feel so good? Why does he have to feel so good? And why, oh why, does he have to be a cop? An undercover one, at that? And with that tattoo, too. Ugh!

Contemplating all things wrong in this small world, I barely register his grip loosening. The fog of despair lifts as his palms slowly make their way up my bare arms to either side of my neck. I don't resist the urging of his thumbs to look up at him.

All traces of humor have vanished from his eyes, replaced with a soft understanding.

He hums. "I'll tell you what I told the Captain. It's not like I'm getting naked in front of anybody. Except you," he clarifies, making the downturned corner of my mouth perk up ever so slightly into more of a straight line. My eyes drop to his mouth then over the lanky muscles that rest firmly under his pale skin. I place my hands on his stomach. My cold palms make it tighten and I lightly follow the outline of abs to either side of his waist.

"Besides, I got it before even considering going undercover. Guess I didn't really think about it." He shrugs. "Shit's too expensive to get taken off. Even if I wanted to. Which I don't." His hands leave my neck, falling over the curve of my shoulders. The warmth of his touch is gone only to be replaced on the swell of my hips. His fingers absently knead the soft flesh. My arms wrap around his back to pull him closer between my legs and rest my chin on his shoulder.

"So, I'm really the only one you get naked with?" I ask, then feel him smile against my temple. He places a kiss there, exhaling against me.

"Mm-hm. For a while now."

"How long is a while?" My fingers wander his back while he thinks about it or even considers answering.

"Five years ago."

"Years?" I say, pulling back to meet his blank expression. "Really."

"Yeah. Why? You think I'm a slut?" He flattens his palm against his chest. "That hurts."

"Oh, shut up. I mean, come on. Look at you." I gesture to his smokin' hot bod.

"Look at me? Look at you."

"I'm sorry." I pull back, holding a hand up, prepared to slap him with it. "Are you calling me a slut now?"

"Hardly. Just because you're insanely hot doesn't make you a slut."

"You think you're insanely hot?" My brow perks.

He gives me a look that's says, "well obviously." "Wasn't that what you were going to say?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." I totally was. "Don't put words in my mouth."

Bringing both hands up to my face, his fingers follow his eyes. Softly over my forehead, then down my cheeks. "My mistake." His thumb sweeps across my bottom lip, something else he wants to say sitting just behind his. I can see it. Feel it. I think maybe I know what it might be.

He kisses me instead. Slow and soft then hard and deep.

In no time he's reaching for the drawer I keep the party condoms in and ready to go again. Only this time I stop him, hop off the counter, and lead him to my bed where I pull him down on top of me.

His weight is more delicious than his grilled cheese. I open up to it, letting him sink between my legs to fill me again and again.

He's slower this time. Gentler. Unrushed. Making it easier to explore each other's bodies.

In an instant, they sync. He instinctively rolls over, pulling me on top. I brace myself on his chest, feeling his heart pounding under my palm.

His hands are all over me, making me dizzy. My ears hum while he feels. My ankles, legs, hips, back down my legs, then up again to my belly. They stop over my boobs. He gently squeezes, his thumbs grazing over my nipples before he wraps his arms around my back, sitting straight up.

The new position hits me at a new angle. I tense, simultaneously sucking in a sharp breath.

 _Holy shit._

My arms wrap around his neck. I grind into his groin, needing some more of that.

"Shit, Bella. Yeah." His voice fills me with heat. It shoots straight to my center as his fingers dig into me, urging me to use him. It's the hottest thing I've ever experienced. The sleepy expression on his face, the hottest I've ever seen. Nearly too hot.

Resting my forehead on his, I close my eyes to concentrate. I can still see his face behind my lids. Can feel his want for me as I move against it, with it. I want him just as bad as he wants me. Maybe worse.

As if he can hear my thoughts he proves me wrong with a long, low moan. The sound sends me into a tailspin, making me flutter and clamp around him in complete silence.

Out of breath and officially weak in the knees, I fold against him, resting my chin in the crook of his neck.

My eyes land on the tattoo on his back. I stare at it, unsuccessfully pushing away all kinds of horrific scenarios before placing a kiss on his shoulder and sitting up straight to find that look again. The one that tells me there's something more. Something he's not saying.

So, I don't say anything either.

Crawling off him, I head to the bathroom to clean off.

He's disposed of his mess by the time I get back, a look of surprise in his features to find me still as naked as the penguins on my old PJs.

Passing by, I flick off the lamp and grab his hand to pull him into the bed with me. Back to chest. His arm wound securely around my waist.

Staring into darkness, I listen to him breathe, only allowing myself to relax when he lightly starts snoring in a slow, steady rhythm.

My mom hated that my dad snored. Angela almost turned down Ben's proposal over an enlarged uvula. "Thank God for CPAP machines," she once confided in me.

But this ... it wasn't so bad. I think I could get used to it.

Sleep comes fast and easy wrapped up in the warmth of another body. However, I wake up cold. Left alone with nothing but a one word text.

 _Later_.


	21. Chapter 21

Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own.

Pre-read by Hoodie

I know! I know! It's been forever and a day. I'm sorry! But here you go. Love you xo

* * *

I hate Mondays. Classes start way too early and it's damn near impossible to pay attention to Dr. Banner's monotonous tone. He's lost his edge ever since finishing his PHD and getting tenure. Now instead of being quirky and interesting, he just comes across as boring. Not that it matters. All I can think about is that text from this morning.

Later.

My nostrils flare down at my phone.

Later.

In a moment of weakness, Edward's and my relationship—if you can even call it that—had been downgraded from something possibly monumental to a casual hookup. Something I swore I would never do.

Later.

A snap echoes through the classroom and everyone turns to look at me. Brow creased, I look down and find I've snapped my last number two pencil in half.

Thankfully they've all got ADHD and quickly forget about me, turning around to focus back on themselves because Lord knows they aren't listening to Dr. Banner yammer on.

Tossing my ruined pencil in my bag, I fish out a pen so I can pretend like I'm taking notes. Banner always puts everything up online anyway. At least some things stay true to form.

I'm still fishing, mid-bend when I notice a kid I don't recognize still staring at me. Averting my eyes, I finally wrap my fingers around the damn pen and straighten. I wait a few minutes before scratching a fake itch on my shoulder with my chin and find him still staring.

Weird. I hope now he doesn't think I'm interested.

I shiver with the dislike of men in general.

In no time I'm zoned back out of Banner's lecture, thinking of a hundred different ways I'm going to tell Edward off if I ever see him again.

The visuals make class go by faster. I don't realize it's over until everyone's getting up and gathering their things.

I'm slow to pack mine until I notice the kid with the staring problem still sitting there staring at me. I put a rush on it and high-tail it out of there.

I'm mildly more aware of my surroundings as I walk from campus to Jasper's shop, looking over my shoulder more often than I usually do.

My senses feel abnormally heightened, like they know somebody's watching me. I can feel it.

Fingering the trigger of the pepper spray my dad made sure I always carried, I quicken my steps, almost at a run when I make it to Jas Glass and swing open the door to where it's safe inside.

I let out a relieved breath when I see Jasper fiddling with one of the displays.

"Hey," I say breathlessly, tossing my stuff behind the counter.

"Hey, you're early. That never happens."

I huff a laugh and stick out my tongue. "Yeah, today's been … interesting." To say the least. Leaning on the counter, I run my fingers through the dangling glass earrings, admiring the attention to detail. Everything Jas makes is beautiful and original. "Need any help over there or are you just obsessing?"

"Obsessing mostly."

I smirk.

Finally satisfied, Jasper leaves his masterpieces alone for the time being and comes to join me at the counter.

"You look different," he tells me.

I'm not sure if I should be offended. "How so?"

"I don't know. Did you do something with your hair? New makeup? Are you even wearing any?"

Offended it is.

"I didn't mean it like that. It's nothing bad. It's just, there's something different. That's all."

Edward pumping away between my thighs flashes across my mind. My whole body heats, especially my cheeks. Jasper no doubt noticing that too.

"Anyway, if you need me, I'll be in the back a few more hours then I'm heading to the loft to work on a few custom pieces." Dropping the subject for now, Jasper walks backward away from me, pointing a finger gun my way. "You still coming by after we close up?"

I nod. "Yep. I'll be there with the beer."

"That means I got the pizza."

"You got it. Don't forget, cheese only on my half!" I remind him after he's spun around, heading for the back. He flashes me a thumbs up before disappearing behind the curtain.

Once Jasper's out of sight, that feeling I'm being watched starts to creep back in. Looking out the front windows, I find no one there. Regardless, I round the counter to stand where I'm less visible.

After I've had time to chill and that feeling starts to dissipate, I pull out some school books, ready to focus on some homework.

Just like Banner's voice, the text I have to finish reading nearly puts me to sleep. I find myself reading the same sentence two and three times in a row before it finally sinks in. Halfway through the assignment, I slam the book shut.

Dust from the pages dances in the sunlight, settling down on the glass counter in front of me. I blow it off, making it twirl and swirl again only for it to land in the same spot as it did before. I spell out my name before wiping the dust away.

The bell above the door jingles and I straighten, watching as the lanky, weird kid from today's class walks in. Long, greasy hair hides the side of his face, his body covered by a black trench coat.

Normally I don't pay that much attention to the customers, but he's officially creeped me out. No way this is a coincidence. But I keep my cool considering maybe he's just a stoner that's high and has mistaken the glass icicles in the front window display for pipes to smoke his weed.

"Hi. Welcome to Jas Glass." My voice echoes through the quiet store, but the kid acts as if he doesn't hear me.

I roll my eyes. Kids today are so rude.

"Is there anything in particular I can help you with? Do you know what you're looking for?"

Continuing to ignore me, he makes his way to the far end of the store.

Jas comes out of the back and we share a look then eye what we can see of our shy, new friend.

An overwhelming feeling sneaks up on me the longer he lingers. Something doesn't feel right. It hasn't since I saw him the first time. My instincts are proven right when a loud crash comes from one of the displays at the far end of the store.

Jasper and I share another look. I just about roll my eyes, ready for the kid to come up and apologize or run out. Instead, there's another crash. And another, then another.

Jasper takes off in the direction of the wreckage. I straighten as it grows louder, getting closer and closer.

Where is a goddamn silent alarm when you need one?

By the time I remember I can actually speak and think to reach for the phone, Jasper comes back into view, hands up in surrender. The kid's pointing the bat at his chest.

Jasper stops and the kid smashes another shelf of his hard work before demanding he get behind the counter with me.

Keeping the bat pointed in our direction, the kid looks through the earrings hanging from an open case.

After a minute or so, Jasper attempts to reach for the phone but the kid sees him. "Ah, Ah, Ah. Don't even try it, Man Bun."

I almost scoff. Like he's one to talk. Psychotic greaseball.

"Think I'll take these. My girl will like 'em. What you think?" He holds one up to his ear and looks at me. "Think Alice'll like 'em?"

My heart jumps up into my throat and I swallow it down. This must be the deadbeat that got Alice strung out on drugs then pregnant. How the hell would he even know me? Unless Alice told him I had come by with her case worker. But why would she? Why me? What was it he wanted?

"Tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna take these." He dangles the pair of earrings in the air then drops them in his pocket. "And what cash you have in the register there, then I'm out of here." He waits rather patiently for one of us to open the register.

I'm closest.

Clenching my fists, I look up at Jasper, ready to throw down if that's what he's prepared to do.

He nods. I silently ask if he's sure, and he nods again at the register. My heart nearly rips in two when I press a button and it dings open. Collecting all the cash, I hand it over with a glaring frown.

The little asshole has the audacity to smile, acting as if he's about to turn away, but not before he delivers his intended message.

"Oh, I almost forgot. Bella, is it?" he asks. I don't answer. He leans in closer. "Bella, be a peach and tell your boy Tony that Alec says, 'Hey,' from the inside. And that he wants him to know it was a nice try. He'll know what it means." He snorts then whines like an obnoxious pig.

My heart drops into my stomach as he raises the bat in the air. Jasper and I simultaneously reach for one another when he swings it down and smashes the counter right in front of us before casually walking out the front door.

Jasper's dialed the cops before the door even closes while I just stand there like a useless lump.

I vaguely hear Jasper explaining what just happened over the phone. I'm glad he knows because I'm not exactly sure I do myself.

"Bella, are you okay?" Jasper asks, placing the phone back in the base.

I honestly don't know but I nod anyway. "Are you?"

He sighs. "Physically, yes."

I hum in understanding. "Well, we should probably get this cleaned up." I reach to pick up some glass but Jasper stops me.

"They said to stay put and not touch anything."

"Oh."

We stand together, quietly looking out over one hell of a mess. He blindly reaches for my hand and I readily accept it, my fingers nearly breaking inside his.

A few minutes later, two cop cars pull up in front of the store. I tell them all I can remember about how the kid looked and who I believe him to be. I leave out the fact of knowing this Tony personally because I don't know Tony. I know Edward. Kind of. At least, I thought I did.

Once the cops get both our statements and the security footage, they leave us with the clearance to start cleaning up the mess and the last person I expect to see tonight walks through the door.

* * *

Guess what. Another update Sunday night. WHAT? I know!

Now go read Hoodie and my collab over at jonesnindahood. Title: The First Day


	22. Chapter 22

Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own.

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

Ain't none of y'all guessed right! Ha! I love it.

* * *

 _Once the cops get both our statements and the security footage, they leave us with the clearance to start cleaning up the mess and the last person I expect to see tonight walks through the door._

* * *

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

It's been ages since I last saw him. His hair is short with salt and pepper flakes instead of jet black. He looks so old and tired. I wouldn't have recognized him if it wasn't for the mustache.

Grabbing my shoulders, he looks me all over. "Are you okay? Did either of you get hurt at all?"

I shrug him off. "We're both fine. Not a scratch on us. Now, what is it you're doing here?"

"I heard what happened on the scanner. You two gave the guys good descriptions? Paid attention to scars, tattoos? Anything that would pick him out of a lineup?"

"Yes, Dad. We did the best we could given the situation. The kid was wearing a trench coat and had greasy, long hair covering most of his face. Besides, I'm pretty sure I know who he is, so don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it." Dad laughs and looks over at Jasper. "A kid she knows threatens her with a baseball bat, trashes your shop, and she tells me not to worry about it."

"Could be worse." I shrug.

"How's that?"

"It could've been a gun. We could be dead."

"Bella." Both Jasper and my dad chastise me simultaneously for simply speaking the truth.

With a shrug I get back to sweeping. Swatting my dad's boots to get him to move out of the way. "Remind me why you're here again? You're not on the force anymore, remember? You retired to have babies with your child bride and ironically take pictures of cheating men to share with their wives."

"Isabella Marie."

"What?" I plant the broom at my side and face him. "Am I wrong? Was any part of what I just said not true?"

Dad scratches his forehead with his thumb. "It's more the way you said it."

I cover up the guilt I feel for speaking to my dad in such a way with leftover anger from Edward's text and the little shit that destroyed my good friend's store. Today has been a real shit day. And it's only getting shittier.

"Well, is there anything I can do?" Dad asks.

Without missing a beat I tell him, "You can go buy us some beer and pizza." For starters. "Maybe start covering the second half of my rent." It wasn't like I was gonna have a job to go to. "Oh, and pay Mom the alimony you owe her."

Dad's face flares all red like the top of a volcano. Here we go. "Fine, Bella. If you don't want my help all you have to do is say so. This sarcasm is getting old."

I wasn't being sarcastic at all.

"I came here to make sure my daughter and her friend were okay and all I'm met with is hostility and disrespect."

He and my mother are so much more alike than they'll ever realize. Everything is always about them.

"I can see I'm not wanted here, so I'll go. I'm glad you're both okay."

With that, he walks out the door in Charlie Swan fashion. Offers help but finds some way to weasel his way out of it.

Turning to Jasper, I hold out my hands in a what-the-hell stance. "I was being serious. I'm fucking starving and have no money."

Jasper shakes his head, a small smirk peeking out of his profile. Scooping up a big pile of broken glass, he throws it in the trash then props the broom up against the wall. "Then let's get out of here. I think we could both use some beers."

"And pizza," I add, grabbing my coat and keys.

"Yes, and pizza."

Jasper grabs his coat from the back and we head out in the direction of the best beer—not completely nauseating—and pizza in town.

...

Thoroughly full and buzzed, I make it to my apartment in one piece with Jasper's help.

The first thing we do when we get inside is lock the door. We check every room, me trailing closely behind him. We peek behind every door. Under the bed and the couch. I'm so paranoid, I even have him check in the washer, dryer, and all the cabinets before I feel comfortable enough for him to take off.

"Are you sure you don't want to come home with me tonight?"

I nod.

"You sure you don't want me to stay?"

I nod again. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay. Well, the offer stands. One phone call and I'm back here like dirt on your ear." He points to behind his ear.

We stare at each other's goofy grins before we bust out laughing because we may have had some shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, shots, too.

Patting him on the back, I lead him to the door. "Thanks, Jas. You're a real good friend. See you tomorrow, bright and early to finish the clean up?"

He frowns. I nod and shut the door in his face and lock it, already wishing I had taken him up on his offer.

I don't want to be alone tonight. Not sure if I can stand being alone ever again. But I have to try. What if I'm destined to be alone for the rest of my life?

Sighing, I stumble to my room. I've just curled up in bed when there's a knock at the door.

My body goes rigid then into fight or flight mode. Heart pounding, I hug the sheets before throwing them off in search of the hardest thing I can find. But I'm not about to attack anyone with my dildo. So, grabbing the knife Edward used to butter the grilled cheese, I tiptoe up to the peephole, seriously considering using it when I see who is standing on the other side.

Unlocking the door, I partially open it.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, sucking in Edward's signature scent. God, he smells good. Looks good, too. Really good in some distressed jeans and a gray hoodie.

No, Bella. Focus. We're mad at him, remember?

"What do you mean what am I doing here? I'm here to see you."

"And what do I look like? A late night booty call?"

"Wha—"

"Oh, wait. That's right. You never even bothered to call." I attempt to slam the door in his face but he catches it, letting himself in.

I stumble back. He catches me by the waist so I don't fall before shutting and locking the door behind him.

"What is this about? Are you freaking out on me?"

Me freaking out?

"You're the one who walked out on me with nothing but a one-word text."

"One word?" His brows crease. "What word?"

What word?

Digging my phone out of my pajama pocket, I pull up the text.

I'll show him what word.

"This one." I shove my phone in his face.

"Ah, fucking Christ," he curses, pulling out his phone and tapping a few buttons before handing it to me. "Here, read that."

He averts his eyes. I regard him a moment until he flicks his wrist for me to take the phone.

Grabbing it, my eyes drop from his face to the screen.

"This is to Laurie." I hold the phone back out. If I hadn't already spied on him and known Laurie was a guy, I would be furious right now. As it is, I'm only slightly peeved.

"Yeah well, it was meant for you. I must have gotten the message boxes mixed up. Which could have been real bad."

I quirk my brow.

"Worse than this."

I agree with a look then go back to reading like he wants me to.

 _Something's come up and I had to leave. I want tell you what. I want to tell you everything but I can't. You know why. I would have woken you but I know I wouldn't have been able to leave if I did. You're just too damn hard to resist. Anyway, I'll stop back by tonight. Can't wait to see y_ ou.

Stupid giddy inside, I hand him back his phone.

"I'm sorry. I just thought ..."

"I know what you thought. I swear, that's not it at all."

He moves in closer. I mimic his step, reaching out to wrap my arms around his waist. God, I need this. His warmth. How good and strong he feels in my arms. I missed him so much. Too much.

Wrapping his arms around my shoulders, he places a kiss on top of my head. I tilt back, wanting one somewhere else, and Edward obliges, leaning down to press his lips to mine.

Arms lowering around my back, he deepens the kiss, welcomely forcing my mouth open in search of my tongue.

I let go of his waist to grab onto his neck, squealing in approval when he lifts me off my feet and carries me to my room.

Laying me on the bed, he hovers over me, his eyes roaming my body before he leans into my neck and one of his hands goes for the waist of my pajama pants.

"Wait, wait."

He continues kissing my neck, his fingers sliding under the top of my panties.

Trying to resist giving into his touch, I trap his jaw with mine and grab his wrist. "Stop for a minute."

He groans but stops, pulling his hand out of my pants and putting his weight on me, which feels fantastic. He pops his head up to look me in the eye.

"What?" The annoyance dissipates and his eyebrows crease when he notices the look on my face.

"Something happened today at Jasper's store."

He waits for me to continue.

"Some greasy kid came in and smashed up the place."

"What the fuck? Were you hurt?"

"No."

"Did you call the police?" Jesus, he sounds exactly like my dad. I barely keep from rolling my eyes.

"Yes. But that's not all. He knew who I was and said he knew you. He knows Alice. I think it was her baby daddy. The asshole that got her hooked on drugs."

Anger colors his face. He looks away, grips the comforter at either side of my head briefly before loosening his grip and looking back.

"Did you tell the police all that?"

"Just the part about him mentioning the name Tony. I didn't use your real name."

"Okay, that's good, I guess." Edward contemplates while I try and spit out the rest of what I need to tell him.

"He wanted me to give you a message."

"Me, Edward?" He glances over, confused.

"No. You, Tony." God, this really is confusing.

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'Alec says, "hey," from the inside.' And that he wants you to know it was a nice try. He said you'd know what it means."

"Is that it?"

I shake my head, not wanting to tell him the rest.

Sensing my hesitation, he places a chaste kiss on my jaw. "Go on, tell me the rest."

I lick my lips and close my eyes. "He … He made a bunch of pig noises then smashed the front counter and left." To my horror, I've started crying. I cover my eyes with the back of my arm, trying to hold back a sob. It escapes when Edward snuggles closer into me and tells me it's going to be okay.

"I'm okay. You're okay. Everything's okay."

I nod but still can't stop crying into his shoulder, feeling like an idiot.

When he starts to pull away, I grab onto his shoulders. "No, don't go. Please." I'm disgusted by how pathetic and needy I sound. He probably is too.

"I'm not going anywhere. C'mere." Standing, he grabs my hands and pulls me up with him. I keep a death grip on his forearm while he pulls back the covers so we can both get in.

The last thing I remember is him shushing my attempt at questions. Facing each other, he's running his fingers through my hair.

When I wake up the next morning, he's still there, his arm protectively draped over me.

* * *

I'd love to let you know when I'll update again but I'm not sure. All I know is it feels like the writing floodgates might have been pried open and I have Hoodie to thank for that. If we weren't writing together again then this may not have gotten this far. So again, go read our new fic The First Day. Updates weekly on Monday as long as ff behaves.


	23. Chapter 23

Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own.

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

I borrowed some of this chap from The Departed a bit. If you haven't seen it, you should. It's uh-maw-zing.

* * *

Studying Edward's sleeping face, I wait patiently for him to wake. I have so many questions. I need answers in order to put it all together and understand.

He just has to wake up first.

After a while of just staring, I get impatient and start running my finger along his forehead and down his cheek. When that doesn't work, I lightly flick his nose. As a final attempt to wake him before I start biting, I pepper kisses all over his face.

He groans, but doesn't wake.

When I bite his neck, he finally starts to move but I get a reaction I'm not expecting.

Pushing me to my back, Edward rolls on top of me, grinding his morning wood into my thigh. My heart races, my stomach flipping lower and lower until my panties wet with want.

I open my legs, allowing him between them. The friction encompasses both of us and I start meeting him thrust for dry thrust. It feels beyond good, but it's not enough.

I fruitlessly tear at the hem of his shirt in a blind fury. He gets the idea, grabs the back of his collar and pulls it over his head while I work the buttons of my pajama top. They don't cooperate so I abandon them, going for the buckle of Edward's jeans instead.

He pushes my pajama pants and panties over my ass and down to my knees. I kick them off the rest of the way as he pushes his jeans and underwear just as low as they need to go.

Shoving his face in my neck, he sinks into me. I suck in a sharp breath, lifting then throwing my head back as he fills me completely.

My fingers dig into his hips with the first thrust. His sleepy moans vibrate through my neck into my chest. My eyes flutter, rolling into the back of my head when that flutter moves lower and lower between my legs.

A moan escapes my lips. Edward matches it, thrusting harder and pushing us up toward the head of the bed.

His excitement excites me, his sleepy, raw need to come setting me on fire. The flames drown in a sea of sensation. Dizzy and shaking, my toes grow cold, sending a tingle up my thighs to an explosion no one should be able to survive.

I'm ready to go back to sleep by the time the high subsides. Prying my eyes open, I find Edward looking at me like I'm the most magnificent thing he's ever seen.

"Please tell me that's how you plan on waking me every morning," he says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes, pushing his shoulders. Instead of going away, he comes closer, laying a big, appreciative kiss on my lips before crawling off me and grabbing a few tissues from my nightstand to clean himself off.

"Oh, shit. We just …" Hurriedly pulling up his pants, he turns to me.

I smile. "Good Morning, Daddy."

He pales considerably as he sits.

I laugh, sitting up on the edge of the bed beside him. I check his shoulder with mine. "Relax, I'm kidding."

He blows out a breath that he tries to play off as a laugh.

"I'm on the pill. Have been since I was fifteen."

"Any particular reason?"

"If you're asking if it was for a guy, no. My mom made me. Probably thought I was gonna end up like her."

"And how's that?"

"With child and pressured into a doomed marriage because of it."

Nodding, Edward hands me my missing pajama pants. I excuse myself to the bathroom to clean up. When I get back Edward's stretched out on the bed. I crawl in over him, kissing his cheek before lying down beside him.

I stare at his profile until he looks at me. "You're staring."

"You're pretty."

He smirks. "Not that pretty. Not as pretty as you."

Turning to his side to face me, he rests his head in the palm of his hand.

"You don't look too worried," I say, my mind still stuck on what I told him last night.

"Should I be?"

"You tell me. What did this kid's message mean? Do they know who you are?"

Edward shrugs. "Most likely."

"So, what does that mean?"

"It means you don't need to worry about it. That's what it means."

"Don't give me that shit, Masen."

"Ooh, now you really sound like the captain."

"Well, tell me. I can take it. What does it mean?"

Sighing, Edward fiddles with the collar of my pajama top. "It means my cover's most likely blown, which doesn't really matter since we've got enough info to put Marcus away for life. But that's only if we can catch him. Until then, I'll have to watch my back."

I swallow thickly. The worry has to be written all over my face. Running the back of his finger down the side of my face, Edward reassures me. "But it also means you don't need to worry about it, okay?"

I placate him with a nod, though both of us know I'm still going to worry about it. How can I not?

Grabbing his hand, I thread our fingers together. "When did you know you wanted to be a cop?" I ask, hungry for his touch and everything there is to know about him.

"Let's see. I think I was around eleven. My mom had been picked up for the umpteenth time for public intoxication. Everybody knew who she was. After so many overnight stints in jail, they stopped booking her and started bringing her home instead. Didn't want to mess with the paperwork, I guess." Edward shrugs. "Anyway, there was this one cop who noticed me and my brother. Like really took notice. Whenever he brought our mom home, he would bring us something. Anything. Pens, pencils, paper for school. Donuts," he added with a smirk.

I couldn't help but smile through the sadness of the situation. "That was really cool of him."

"Yeah, it was. But then one day I saw him chasing after this neighborhood kid I always hated. When the officer trapped him against a fence across the street, he pulled his gun and the kid pissed his pants."

"Oh, shut up." I attempt to punch his shoulder with our clasped hands, my smile fading into a glare as he laughs. "Was any of what you just said true?" I ask, wondering if this is how it's always going to be. All I want are some straight answers. I want to know the real him. Really know him. He makes it so hard.

Kind of annoyed, I try to wiggle free of his grip but he keeps hold of my hand.

"Yes." He kisses the back of it, looking up at me. "It's all true. Even the chase. And honestly, that day really was the day I decided I wanted to be a cop."

"Just so you could make the bad guys piss in their pants."

"Damn right."

I roll my eyes for what I'm sure won't be the last time during this conversation.

"And the tattoo? You got it before you joined?"

"Yep. Got it on my sixteenth birthday." Edward laughs to himself.

"What?"

"It's just funny."

"What is?"

"How I got a tattoo for a career I almost didn't get. Not because of test scores or ability but who I was. Who I was related to."

"Are you serious? That's not fair."

"I blame my brother mostly. By the time I was old enough to go out for the CPD, he'd been in trouble numerous times with the law. He was selling, doing. He works for Marcus out of state now."

"He grows for him." I proudly puzzle some pieces together myself.

Edward nods. "Instead of turning me away completely, the department put me undercover since I was a shoe in with Marcus' crew. I grew up around them. It was what I knew."

"Wait, wouldn't Emmett have known what you were doing? Wouldn't they know what you wanted to be?"

Edward shook his head. "I kept it under the radar. Studied in seclusion in the library instead of taking books home. Emmett and I didn't talk once he started dealing." A far off look sets into Edward's eyes but he shakes it out. "He didn't care what I did as long as I wasn't in his way. I also didn't want him finding out for fear he'd kick my ass while simultaneously poking fun at me. Honestly, his 'associates' probably would have already killed me if they knew."

I look down at our joined hands, trying not to imagine this man dead when there's a good chance he could be. "All right. Change of subject."

"Yeah, good idea," Edward agrees. After a moment of silence, he gives me a sly look. "Okay, I got it. If money wasn't an issue what would you do with your Art History degree?"

I'm surprised he asks. "Oh, okay. Well, the responsible side of me would most likely go for a curator position at the Art Institute here in the city." I can only dream. "But those are prime spots. To pick and choose what to display?" I can't imagine how fulfilling it would be. "There's no way they'd pick a new graduate right out of the gate with no experience though."

"And the irresponsible side of you?" Edward smirks. It's obvious he'll forever be trying to corrupt me.

"Uh, I'd go gallivanting around Europe."

He looks surprised.

I nod. "I'd start in Ireland, eat and drink my way down to Florence, Italy, possibly shimmy over to Barcelona." I give it my best go at an exotic shoulder dance and a laughable accent.

"That sounds … epic? Is that a word the kids are using today?"

"Mm, more like ten years ago." My palm playfully pushes his palm around. I smile down at our dancing hands before looking up at him again. "But it still stands. Only for this, though. Don't ever let me hear you say that word again."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And don't ever call me ma'am."

Lifting his head, he salutes with his free hand then rests his head back on it.

"So, when do you graduate?" he asks.

"This June. June ninth, I think. Why?"

"Just curious."

Our feet find each other over the covers, wanting in on some action.

"So, tell me about the last time you were with a girl."

"What about it?"

"Who was she?" I'm itching to know.

"You want like a name and last known address? Are you planning on stalking her or something?" The thought has crossed my mind. "We really do need to work on that jealousy of yours."

"My jealousy? Like you're one to talk."

We smile at each other, knowing we're each just as bad as the other in that department.

"No. What I want to know is who she was to you. Was she your first, your last, the only?"

"Yes, yes, and yes. Until you."

Really.

"Did you love her?"

Edward looks off in thought again. "I thought I did. As much as a kid can. I never said it and neither did she. We were never really together. It was just something to do. A way to pass the time."

"And is that what this is? Just a way to pass the time?"

He smiles as if he expects the question. "What do you think?" He tries to divert, but I won't let him. I can't.

"I think I want you to answer the question. That's what I think." My eyebrows raise in contest.

"Okay then, you asked for it." He shakes his head like I'm really in for it now.

Color me intrigued.

"The night you found me ..." he starts.

Flashbacks of that night run through my mind. How bloody and swollen his face was. It was so bad he couldn't open his eyes. I couldn't understand a word he said. It was awful. I never want to see him like that again. I hate even thinking about it.

"I had never been more scared for my life than I was that night. I thought I'd been made and I was dead. But then they stopped and gave me a warning for Marcus to get out of town. I had never felt more relieved and just completely safe when I heard your voice."

My chest fills with his confession. It pushes my heart so far up my throat I nearly suffocate from it.

"Just that simple hello was enough to calm me down," he goes on. "Even if it was followed up by a threat of pepper spray."

I blow out a quiet laugh.

He pulls me closer, trapping me against him with our clasped hands behind my back. "And then you sat beside me. You held my hand. Rode with a complete stranger to the hospital and stayed with him all night."

"Part of the night," I remind him. "You left, remember?"

"Yeah, but I didn't want to. That's got to count for something, doesn't it?" Leaning in, he kisses my neck then my ear. I feel his lips move against the lobe. "There was something special about you from the beginning. You were easy to talk to."

"You mean irritate."

He chuckles and his breath blows against the skin behind my ear.

I shiver.

"That too. I liked talking to you."

"Irritating me," I correct. I know we're both smiling when our cheeks touch. His is rough with scruff and warm. I rub my cheek into it.

"I liked you. Like you," he clarifies. "Everything about you."

I close my eyes, rubbing up against him like an overly-friendly cat. My bones are near putty. I want to curl up into him. It's never going to be close enough.

"That's also why I wanted to push you away. I didn't want you wrapped up in this mess. I didn't want you to get hurt. I knew there was a good chance you would. Look what happened at Jasper's."

I shake my head. "But I wasn't hurt." Releasing his hand, I run my newly freed one through his hair to the back of his head and press our heads together. "Even if I was, I wouldn't take it back. I wouldn't take any of it back."

Grabbing onto my forearm, he tilts his head up to capture my lips. The kiss is hard but chaste, as if it simultaneously pleasures and pains him.

When he ends it, he rests his forehead back against mine just as I remember I have someplace to be.

"Jasper."

I pull back and he opens his eyes. "No, I'm Edward."

And he's back, ladies and gentlemen.

"Stop it." I smack his shoulder. "I just remembered Jasper's expecting me to help clean up. I was supposed to be there a half hour ago. He's probably worried I haven't shown up yet." I scramble off the bed in search of my phone, sending Jas a quick text that I'm still alive when I find it where I left it on my bedside table.

I strip down to my skivvies in front of Edward while he sits on the side of the bed, watching intently the whole time I'm getting dressed.

He follows me out into the living room, lounging on the couch while I brush my teeth and grab my things.

He stands, approaching me when I'm finally ready to go.

"You look beautiful," he tells me.

I don't believe a word of it. "I look awful."

"Awfully beautiful."

"Ha ha," I fake laugh in his direction.

He grabs my face, placing another kiss on my lips before opening the door. "After you."

"Wait. Where will you be today? Will I see you? Will you come back tonight?" I ask, sounding like a stage five clinger.

He quickly puts all my worries to rest. "Oh, I'm going with you to clean up. Until this shit's blown over I'm not letting you out of my sight."

If the situation were any different I would have fought him tooth and nail on that. Since it's not, I have absolutely no problem with it.


	24. Chapter 24

Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own.

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

All right, everybody. Fasten your seatbelts.

* * *

True to his word, Edward follows me out and makes me get in his car.

On the way to Jasper's, he agrees to stop for coffee, circling the block three times in search of a parking spot so he can go in with me.

I have no qualms about this, other than the fact that I feel like I've been inducted into the witness protection program instead of out with my … special friend? Boyfriend? Have we actually put a label on this yet?

Edward's palm is splayed out over my lower back while we wait. Leaning into his side, I look up and open my mouth to ask what exactly we are to each other when they call out our order.

Stepping away from me for a nanosecond, Edward grabs the drinks. Then his hand is on my back again, leading me out of the shop. He seems to relax a little once we're in the car again.

"So …" I start then stop.

"So …" Edward repeats, glancing at me then at the road. He waits while I collect my thoughts and decide how I want to say this.

"What exactly are we?" I ask, deciding on straight-forward.

Yeah. It's good to be direct.

"Well, we're people. Two incredibly good-looking people.

Oh my God.

I roll my eyes.

Good to be direct unless I'm talking to this jokester.

Closing my eyes, I take a breath then pop them open. As if asking the first time wasn't hard enough. "You know what I mean. What are we to each other? Like, when Jasper asks, are we just hanging out and having fun? Are we friends, fuck buddies?" His eyebrows rise at that last one. "Or ... am I your girlfriend?" I add, my voice a touch softer.

Edward glances over again. We hold eye contact until he has to check the road in front of him.

I almost regret asking until he finally speaks.

"All those things sound pretty good to me."

I internally growl.

"But if I had to pick ..." He shrugs the shoulder closest to me, focusing on the road as he makes a turn. The suspense is killing me.

"I'd go with girlfriend," he finally answers, his eyes remaining forward.

I warm all over, not necessarily expecting him to pick that one, or at the very least expecting him to dance around the issue a little longer like he usually does.

"What about you? What would you call me? Friend, fuck buddy?" He shoots me a quick, wicked grin. "Or …"

Boyfriend. Definitely.

"Oh, I don't know. They all sound pretty good to me," I tease him, looking out the window.

"But if I had to pick, I'd go with … Mm." I scrunch my nose in thought. "Guy who drives me crazy."

I glance over to find a smile on his profile.

Reaching out between us, he grabs my hand and weaves our fingers. He rests them on his lap. "Then it's settled. I'm your boyfriend."

Just about the same time we declare our commitment to each other, we've made it to Jasper's shop.

Edward parks then gives the back of my hand a kiss before getting out to lead me into the store.

Jas looks up when the bell above the door jingles. "Ah, you read my mind," he says, propping up his broom and rushing over when he sees the coffees. He takes a long drink of his, sizing up my male companion. Lowering his cup, he points. "Who's this?"

Scratching the side of my nose, I glance up at Edward. "Uh, this is, uh, my boyfriend, Edward." I smile a shy smile, feeling like a silly little girl but loving how it sounds all at the same time.

"You mean … Wait, so … This is the guy? The one you brought home that night? The one you were telling me about?" Jasper asks, a look of amused disbelief on his face.

I'm sure Edward is loving this.

I give Jasper a wide-eyed smile to tell him to shut the hell up. "Anyway … Edward, this is the owner of Jas Glass. My boss and good friend, Jasper."

The men exchange pleasantries and shake hands. Jasper lets out a chuckle and shakes his head.

I internally groan, gulping down my latte with an extra shot as they depart and each grab a broom, getting down to business.

Jasper is his usual quiet self as he works diligently to clean up all the glass.

Edward is flirty, staying close to me and giving me wry smiles as he passes by. By the third pass, he brushes up against me, bending down to talk into my ear. "So, you talk about me, huh?"

"Who said it was good?" I elbow him in the ribs. He kisses the side of my head then heads in the opposite direction with his broom.

With the three of us hopped up on caffeine, the place looks spotless and practically empty in no time. It's kind of final and depressing.

"Edward, if you could just help me carry this barrel to the back and load it up in my truck, I'll just reuse the pieces to make something else later." Jasper shrugs, ever the pillar of emotional strength and optimism.

Edward nods, grabbing the other side of one of the barrels. After they've disappeared into the back, the bell rings above of the door. My heart seizes. I grab my chest, turning to find Alice. She has little Anthony all bundled and strapped to her front.

"Alice, you scared me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's okay, but what are you doing here?" I lower my arm to my side.

Alice looks the place over as she comes to stand right in front of me. "Billy told me what he did. I wanted to give these back to you." She holds out the earrings the greasy kid named Billy stole for her.

"Oh, well, thank you. I'm sure Jasper will appreciate it."

She nods absently, looking around her at what's left of Jasper's spared creations. She's gravitated to a specific display by the time the guys come back inside.

"Ali?" Edward says as soon as he spots her. "What are you doing here?"

"T!" She runs over to him, nearly squishing the baby with a hug. "I'm so sorry about Billy. He stops by every now and again. But I swear, it's just to see the baby."

"Why didn't you call me? You're supposed to call me if he ever comes back, Al."

Frowning, she looks down at Anthony. "He said he'd take Anthony if I told you. He said I'd never see him again. I couldn't bear it if he did that. I just couldn't. I'm sorry."

Edward places his hand on her shoulder. "He'd do no such thing. I wouldn't have let him. If you had told me he was in town, I could've run him off again and maybe we could've avoided this mess." He spans his arms.

She nods, thoroughly chastised. It's a little unfair of Edward to put all the blame on her. I give him a look that tells him as much when Alice turns to Jasper, begging his forgiveness.

"Don't even worry about it. It's hardly your fault. Is it, now? No," he assures her and little Anthony with some unexpected baby talk. Tossling Anthony's hair, he offers them both a kind smile.

I hate to interrupt their adorable moment when I clear my throat. "How is it that Billy knew who I was, Alice?"

She turns to me while Jasper continues to make faces at the baby. Who knew he was so paternal?

"He told me that he's been watching the house. When he saw T leave the other day, he followed him to your place. He recognized you from your visit with Victoria. He asked me who you were." She shrugs. "I just thought he was curious about who had been coming and going. I never thought …"

"It's okay, Alice. Really. Nobody's blaming you." We're blaming that greasy-ass bastard of yours.

She nods in understanding, turning back to Jasper so they can fawn over her son some more.

Edward crosses the shop to stand in front of me with a look of urgency. "We need to meet up with Laurie."

"At the library?" I ask, outing myself for spying on him before.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"You're not the only one with undercover skills."

He shakes his head, putting away his phone. Interrupting an intense game of peekaboo, we let Jasper and Alice know we have to go. I feel kind of strange leaving Jas there alone with her. What if that kid comes back?

Jasper doesn't seem worried. In fact, he looks as if he's having a blast. They laugh loudly as we step out into the bitter cold. I watch them all laughing together through the front window until Edward orders me to get in the car.

I'm exhausted by the time my butt hits the passenger side seat. I lean back and close my eyes, smiling blindly when I feel Edward pick up my hand. Placing a kiss on the back of it, he rests it on his thigh.

...

Before I know it, we're parked down the street from the university library. Edward leans over me, pops open the glove compartment, and pulls out a gun.

My eyes go wide as he messes around with the clips or safety or whatever the hell you do with a gun before shoving it down the front of his pants.

I have no time to question his need for it right now. I don't even want to think about it, to be honest. I'm sure the answer will only make me more sick than I already am.

"Stay close to me," he says, and I readily agree with a nod because of course I will. Is he kidding?

"Okay, let's go."

Leaving the keys in the car, we both climb out at the same time. We wordlessly walk up the sidewalk and in the front entrance.

It's not nearly as crowded as the night I followed him here. The absence of background noise makes my ears buzz. My nerves are about fried. I want to reach for Edward's hand but I don't know if I should or not. This espionage shit is all so new to me.

As if he can sense my need, Edward blindly reaches back for me. I grab his hand, the fingers on my other hand wrapping tightly around his wrist. My eyes are glued to the back of his neck as we quickly make our way to the back.

I use his strength to keep me upright as we descend some stairs and turn down an adjoining hallway to the stacks where I found Edward the last time.

Laurie's already there, looking like a regular student in a hoodie and jeans. Edward and him clasp hands then pull it in for a hug. He looks up with a pair of the lightest blue eyes. The dark tone of his skin making them shine all that much brighter under the fluorescent lighting.

"Is this her?" Laurie asks, pointing at me. He pulls back, swatting Edward in the stomach with the back of his hand. "This the one you been cheatin' on me with?" His serious face morphs into a big smile. "Nah, I'm just playin'. You know I gotta give my boy shit. Oh, it's so hard to leave you. Ooh, I can't wait to see you," Laurie teases in a girly voice. He kisses the air in quick succession then laughs. "Bring it in here, girl." He holds his arms open for me. I step forward with a reluctant smile and give him a hug. "Any girlfriend of Masen's is a girlfriend of mine."

Once Edward's done standing back and smirking, he finally swoops in to save me, prying my body from Laurie's clutches and pulling it into his side. One arm behind his back, I cling to him for dear life.

I listen carefully as Edward explains the situation in its entirety. Laurie pretty much agrees he's most likely had his cover blown or it soon will be and he can't go back in. It's too much of a risk.

"So, I'm thinkin' you take her to your place. You know the one."

Edward nods.

"Okay." Laurie hands him a set of keys. "I'll be in touch," he says. Then a pop goes off. It sounds like somebody let off a firecracker. My hands fly to cover my ears. Edward pulls me in front of him, surrounding me with his body just as another echoes through the air. Something pings off the metal bookcase beside us and I duck, realization setting in.

Everything surrounding me slows as Laurie pulls his gun.

Edward's yelling but I can't hear him for all the shots the shooter keeps taking. I flinch as pages from a book fly by the side of my head. I'm sure we're all dead until Edward grabs me by the waist and hoists me to my feet. Covering my back, he leads me to the far end of the stacks.

"Go! Go! Get out of here! Go! Now!" Laurie yells, firing a few rounds and clearing our way.

Slow motion warps into light speed. Edward leads me out and down a hallway to an employee exit I didn't even know was there.

Busting through the door, it goes from raining bullets to actual rain. A monsoon of freezing cold water stings my skin as I make a run for it. My hair is soaked in seconds. My coat's soaked through by the time we reach the car Laurie meant for us to take.

Edward grabs my arm to stop me. Opening the driver's side door, he pushes me in and over to the passenger side seat so he can slide in and start the car. He switches it into gear and the tires spin as he peels out of the parking lot.

"Are you okay? Were you hit?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I don't think so."

I hold onto the door handle for dear life, my fingernails on my other hand digging into the leather of the center console as Edward drives in fast, nonsensical directions.

"Where are we going?" I ask, but he doesn't answer, only checks the rearview mirror before cutting down another alley and finally coming to a stop inside a garage. He cuts the engine as the door closes behind us.

Without a word, he gets out. I watch him walk around the front of the car to the passenger side where he opens the door for me. He offers his hand and I take it, letting him pull me out of the car and through the garage until we're out in the rain again, shielded by a fenced backyard.

I wrap my arms around myself while he messes with the lock to the back door of a small, white, one-story house.

By the time he ushers me in, we're both soaked to the bone. I tremble as he unzips my coat and peels it off. He lets it drop to the floor, his hands going for the hem of my sweater. I automatically raise my arms for him to remove that too, along with my jeans, boots, and lastly my socks.

Spinning me around, he looks me all over. I allow him to manhandle me, assuming he's making sure I don't have any injuries I can't feel yet. I can't feel much of anything, except his hands on me. They're everywhere. Arms, waist, legs, back. They cradle my chin. Bending down, he searches my eyes until I react by reaching up and wrapping my fingers around his wrists.

He holds my stare a moment before removing his hands and shedding his sweatshirt. The gun peeks out from the waist of his jeans. I eye it as he removes it, fidgeting with some things before setting it on the table beside us. His shoes, socks, and jeans are next to go, then his hands are back on my face. He turns it from the gun so I focus on his face instead. My hands fly up to grab onto his forearms. We both stand there in our underwear.

"I didn't mean to bring you into this," he says, sounding pained, searching my eyes. The intimacy snaps me out of my trance.

"I know." My voice remains soft but the feeling is starting to rush back into my body. It feels Edward.

I run my hands up his arms and down his back, wrapping my arms around his waist in hopes of warming us both. Resting my head against his chest, I close my eyes and he wraps his arms around my shoulders, holding me close.

Even though we're probably not safe, it feels as if we are, here in each other's arms.

* * *

Already started on the next chap! See you soon!


	25. Chapter 25

Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own.

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

Thunder cracks across the darkened sky. It shakes the walls of the small house Edward and I are huddled up and hiding in.

I shiver, tightening my grip around his waist. He places a kiss on the top of my head, rubbing his hands up and down my arms while I take in our surroundings.

The kitchen and living area make up one room. The dark brown shade of the leather couch, side tables, and wood cabinets contrast with stark white walls. There are no decorations. I can see into the one small bathroom and the bedroom. The mattress is bare.

"You're still cold. Here, let me turn up the heat." He grips my upper arms and I let go of him, noticing my fingers feel wet. Looking down at my left hand, I find them covered in blood.

My eyes shoot up to Edward's bare back while he adjusts the dial on the thermostat and I see where the blood came from.

Edward.

He got hit.

Rubbing his palms together, he blows into his cupped hands and walks back over as if he doesn't even feel it.

"You're … you're bleeding. You got shot. Oh … oh my God." I start freaking out. Lifting his arm, I step around him. My hands fly up to stop the bleeding. I have to hold pressure. Bleeding needs pressure. Oh God.

"Hey, hey. It's nothing," he says.

"Nothing? You got shot! You're bleeding!" I look around for something I can hold against the wound but the place is empty. No blankets or throw pillows. "Do you have gauze or bandages or something? We have to get this covered and go to a hospital."

There's a vibration under my fingertips. I look up to catch Edward laughing.

"You think this is funny? Bleeding to death amuses you?" I ask.

Edward twists at the waist to grab my arm and pulls me in front of him. "It's nothing. The bullet grazed me. I'm not going to bleed to death. But if it makes you feel better, there's a first aid kit under the sink in the bathroom.

I nod, taking off for the bathroom. I find the kit under the sink like he said. Walking back, I fiddle with its contents until I find some antiseptic, gauze, and tape.

Hands shaking, I place the kit on the back of the couch.

"Turn around," I order.

Edward obeys with no argument, flinching when I squirt the antiseptic on his back. I wipe it clean to find a simple scratch and relax a little. Taping some gauze in place, I run my hand over the bandage a few times to make sure it sticks before resting my head on his shoulder blade. I wrap my bloodied hands around his waist.

"We'll be safe here. Nobody knows about this place." He tries his best to assure me. But I'm not too assured.

"Except Laurie?"

He nods. "Except him."

"Where are we? Or am I not supposed to know either?"

"It's one of the properties I own."

My head shoots up. "One of them?"

Edward's nods. "Yeah, I own a few. This one, a loft on the Loop and my mom's place."

"How do you afford them all?" I ask, completely flabbergasted.

Edward turns in my arms and pushes the wet hair off my shoulders. His hands run down the back of my arms to my waist. Pressing his chest to mine, he bends down to talk in the crook of my neck. "This one and my mom's were both foreclosures. The bank was practically giving them away. I'm subletting the loft for now, which I usually help pay for with the extra money I make from renting this place. My mom still lives in the other."

Who knew he was so … real estate savvy. And good to his mom. Even when she hadn't been good to him.

"The last tenant just moved out. I've already got somebody lined up to move in next month."

"Wow."

"What?" Keeping his hands on my waist, he straightens to look at me.

"Nothing. I'm just surprised is all. You've really got your shit together." A few short weeks ago I was thinking he was just some loser drug dealer I couldn't shake. But I didn't know him at all.

"And that surprises you?"

"Well, yeah. Considering." I guess I should know better. From what I've recently learned about Edward, he's busted his ass to better his situation.

Edward seems to get what I'm saying without taking any offense. His face sinks back down into the crook of my neck, leaving little scratchy kisses along my skin. My body instantly heats, his lips melting away all the cold.

I eye the bed again then close my eyes when he sighs against me. I know how he feels. Exhausted.

I hum into his shoulder, needing a long nap. "How long are we staying here?"

"Tonight for sure. We'll have to wait and see what I hear tomorrow. "

I nod, stressing out a little bit about missing my classes.

"Okay well, please tell me you have sheets and blankets, pillows for us to sleep on."

Humming, he lifts his head and leaves a kiss on my temple. He heads for the bedroom and I follow, watching as he pulls stored bedding from the closet.

"I'd help, but …" I hold my hands up. Most of the blood has dried and flaking but some of it's still fresh and sticky.

"No, I'm good. Just let me get this and we'll get you cleaned up."

Nodding, I lower my arms to my sides. Any other time I would take matters into my own hands and clean up myself. But I don't want to let Edward out of my sight.

Edward makes quick work of the sheets, throwing the comforter across the bed along with a couple pillows. Once he's done, he leads me into the bathroom and starts the shower.

"Good thing I restock this place after every tenant. Some leave the stuff behind but most take it with them." Edward shrugs.

I hate thieving assholes.

Edward opens a new bar of soap then pulls out a washcloth and towel, setting them on the toilet. He attempts to give me some privacy but I grab his wrist to stop him.

"Don't." In the span of my entire life, I can't remember begging for anything and I've begged this man not to leave me twice in less than twenty-four hours.

Edward nods. I release his wrist and he has me turn my back to him. His fingers lightly fidget with my bra until it's unclasped. I help it fall to the floor then turn back around to face Edward again.

He doesn't kiss my stomach when he lowers my underwear for me. I don't sneak a peek or touch him when he takes off his.

There's nothing overtly sexual about having him undress me but the intimacy is at an all-time high. I feel closer to him in this moment than I have with him inside me. Still, I can't look him in the eye.

He adjusts the heat of the shower then steps in, holding his hand out to help me in under the hot spray.

The water at our feet runs red. I go for the soap but Edward beats me to it, lathering it up before reaching for my hand. I watch as he delicately washes my hands clean, starting with the fingers and slowly working his way up my forearms.

Hot tears well up in my eyes. I close them, letting them fall as I tip my head back in the spray in an attempt to hide it. But Edward sees. He knows.

Stepping into the spray, he wraps his arms around me. He lets me cry into his chest until the water cools and I start to shiver again.

I'm barely functional by the time he helps me out of the tub. He dries me off before wrapping a towel around himself and carrying me into the bedroom.

Throwing the covers back, he places me in the bed then goes back to get his gun before sliding in beside me.

I try not to think about how there's a deadly weapon lying beside us on the nightstand. Instead I turn to face him, nearly coming nose to nose.

"Thank you." I hope to God my breath isn't too bad.

"Anytime." I can't even smell his.

We lie there for a while, just breathing and staring, studying each other's faces.

I nearly start crying again, thinking about how if that bullet had gone a centimeter in the opposite direction, he could be back in the hospital, me holding his hand. Only this time I wouldn't be able to wait and take him home.

My hand makes its way out from under the covers. I place my palm on his cheek and run my thumb down his nose then over his lips. He kisses it and I smile for the first time in what seems like forever. It was just this morning but the movement feels foreign.

I want nothing more than to kiss him silly and forget about everything that's happening. Maybe I'm not cut out for this kind of life. Bullets flying. Some of them hitting my man.

I shoot straight up in the bed.

"Your bandage!"

Edward shushes me, pulling me back down in the bed to face him.

"It's fine."

"But it got wet. I need to change it. What if it gets infected?"

"It's not gonna get infected." He smirks in the face of my worry. I'm glad he finds it so amusing.

I don't have the strength to argue with him. Although, my palm does land on his cheek a little harder than last time. "You're sure?" I ask.

He nods. "Yeah." Lifting his head off the pillow, he presses his lips to mine, rolling me onto my back. Our mouths separate then touch again with a couple chaste kisses before he pulls back, propping himself up with an arm. He smiles down over me.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, it's just …"

"It's just what?" I sit up, looking back at him.

He sits up beside me. Not meeting my eyes, he runs his fingers over my shoulder.

"I don't know. I'm just not used to being fussed over, I guess. Nobody's really cared. Not until you and …" He shrugs. "I like it." He blows out a laugh against my skin.

I'm glad somebody does. I've got a feeling I'll always care for him. Too much. So much, it'll damn near kill me if I have to go through this again.

"Well, just don't be going around trying to get yourself shot again because of it."

He chuckles against my shoulder, pulling me back down to lie beside him, his arm tucked under my head.

"Have you been shot before?" I ask, running the back of my fingers over his bare chest.

"No and I hope I never am."

Amen.

"After this."

I hum in agreement. "For what it's worth, you took it like a champ."

Edward's smile reaches the sides of his eyes. Grasping my jaw, he presses his mouth hard against mine. He grunts in what I assume is satisfaction before pulling always. "See, this is why I love you."

My heart and stomach compete for which can do the bigger flip.

I don't even think he realizes what he's said since he's still smiling.

I don't say anything back in case he doesn't mean it that way. I just couldn't take that kind of rejection right now. Not while naked. Not while trapped in this house. Not from him.

The thunder seems to have passed but the freezing rain is still beating down on the roof and against the windows. It makes me shiver and I roll back into Edward, needing not only him but his warmth.

He covers me up to my shoulders, leaving one of his arms out of the comforter, draped over my hip.

I snuggle into his neck, breathing him in as I start to nod off.

The next thing I know, it's morning and I'm waking up to the sound of quiet chatter outside the bedroom door.

Pushing the covers aside, I crawl out of bed, tightening the towel around me as I move in closer.

One of the voices is Edward's, I'm sure. I'm pretty certain the other is Laurie's. I thank God he got out alive, debating going out there even though I don't want to be seen in just a skimpy towel. When Edward opens the door to the bedroom and they find me eavesdropping, I don't have much of a choice in the matter.

"Well, look who's finally awake," Laurie says, holding out one of my travel bags. "I figured you'd want a few things."

"How … What the … Did you break into my apartment?" I finally spit out, grabbing the bag from his hands.

"Nah, that weird little guy let me in."

"James? I find that hard to believe."

"You better believe it. No sooner I flashed that badge, he made like a lawn chair and folded." Laurie holds his hands up in front of him.

"Don't worry, I didn't snoop. It's just a few changes of clothes. Some shirts, those things the ladies are calling pants that aren't really pants." I assume he means leggings. "A pair of jeans. I wasn't about to pack those pajamas. You're welcome." He directs that last bit at Edward.

I crinkle my nose at him.

He shakes his head, talking under his breath. "What kind of grown-ass woman wears penguins pajamas?" he asks, more to himself than either of us.

"Oh, and there's a couple pairs of socks, underwear—"

"You went through my underwear?"

"I had to. Otherwise I'd have to guess your size and ain't no way I was going there. Mm-mm." He shakes his head.

"I did, however, find one necessity I knew y'all would be happy about." He winks at Edward.

My brow raises. I unzip the bag, feel around, and pull out a hard, round container.

"My birth control? That's the necessity?"

Arms folded behind his back, he shrugs.

"No toothbrush or hairbrush? No deodorant?"

Edward holds up a grocery bag. "We got some toiletries right here. Don't be too hard on him. Laurie's a simple man but he's not a complete lost cause. He brought us some food too."

Laurie nods with pride.

I grab the bag out of Edward's hand and head for the bathroom to take my pill and get dressed in a stretchy, white tee that ties at the hip and black leggings while the boys chit chat a little longer.

When I re-emerge Laurie is just heading out. I thank him for everything with as much sincerity as I can manage. He acknowledges the sentiment with a wave then he's out the door.

"So, you hungry? I could make us some bacon, eggs, toast."

"Yes. All of that sounds fantastic. Thank you." I collapse onto the couch, watching as Edward works his magic in the kitchen and making a mental note to attempt to make him a meal sometime.

My eyes travel from the muscles and bandage on his back to the gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. I bite my lip, looking up at the ceiling, realizing Laurie was right. I am happy he thought to pack my birth control.

I barely keep from groaning as I sit up. Standing, I sneak up on Edward, placing my hands on either sides of his waist, and kiss his spine.

He lets me hang out there behind him as he gets things ready.

Once he's done, he grabs both my hands, wrapping my arms around his waist. After a few moments, I give him a squeeze then back away to make up a plate. Given there's no table, we wind up eating on the couch.

"So what did Laurie have to say? Did he know how long we'll be here? Do they know who the shooter was? Did they catch him?"

"We're here at least another night. Whoever the shooter was got away but Laurie thinks he was wounded, so we're waiting to hear from one of the surrounding hospitals."

"They know to call you?"

"Yeah." Edward talks around a piece of bacon. "All hospitals are obligated to contact the local police department and report gunshot wounds."

I nod, picking apart my toast. "Makes sense." I pop a piece in my mouth and chew. "Is it okay if I text or make a call while we're holed up? I just want to check on Jasper and let Angela know I'm okay."

"As long as you don't tell them where we are it should be fine."

"I won't." There's no need to mention classes right now. I don't have any until tomorrow afternoon. And even if I miss it, it won't be that big of a deal. My attendance has been perfect all four years I've been here. Still, I hate to ruin a perfect record, even if I have a perfectly legit excuse.

"Hey, I don't think I ever told you this but my dad retired from the force not too long ago and is working as a P.I. He even does some bounty hunting in his spare time." I shrug. "Maybe he could help find this guy." The last thing I want to do is call my dad, especially after the way I treated him the other day. But if it can possibly help, I will.

Mouth full, Edward nods until he swallows. "That's cool. But I think the less people know, the better. Besides, I don't think the first time I meet your dad should be under these circumstances. He'd be sure to hate me."

"Do you not remember what I told you about him? The affair with a younger woman who he impregnated with twins … It's like living in a Maury Povich episode, only we know he's the father. There's not much room to judge."

"Maybe. I'd still rather not meet him the day after I got his daughter shot at."

"Fine. Whatever."

Edward sets his plate down on the floor and scoots closer to me. "What? You don't like being holed up with me, day after day, in my shitty old house?" His voice is teasing. So is his hand on my knee.

"Yes. But I'd also like to leave it sometime. With you, of course."

"I know. Me too. And I promise when we do, I'm taking you on a real date."

My finger makes circles around the back of his hand. He turns it palm up to seductively play with my fingers.

"What do you say? You and me. Candlelight. I'll pick you up like I'm supposed to."

"Mm …" That sounds nice. "If we ever get out of here."

"When we get out of here."

Sliding up to me, Edward sets down my plate. I almost complain about how I'm not done when he dips to catch my lips with his. The pressure tilts my head back. My body follows suit and Edward crawls on top of me, nestling his hips between my legs.

We make out like that for awhile. I keep waiting for him to take it further but he doesn't. He just keeps kissing me, periodically sweeping his tongue over mine. My hands roam his back and the bulging muscles of his arms. Then they're in his hair, behind his head, pulling his mouth harder into me.

He groans, leaving my lips alone and tingly when he lifts himself. He's off me and sitting back on the other end of the couch in a matter of seconds.

"What's wrong? Did I do something? Is my breath bad?" I ask, checking it with a cupped hand.

Chuckling, he shakes his head. "God, no." He leans back on the sofa. "If anything, you're perfect. Taste too good," he says to the ceiling, closing his eyes.

"Then why'd you stop? I took my birth control. I always take it in the morning so I didn't even miss a dose."

"That's not it." He's still not looking at me.

"Then what?"

"You've been through a lot the past few days. I don't want to take advantage."

"Advantage."

He nods.

"Of a girl who openly wants to sleep with you and already has multiple times?"

"Maybe it's different right now."

I study his profile. His bare chest rising and falling as he breathes. His big hands are sprawled out on either side of him. One on the arm rest, the other on the center couch cushion.

Silently, I get up, taking off my shirt once I'm standing in front of him. His eyes are still closed, knees wide open. I kneel between them, placing my hands on his thighs and he opens his eyes. They drop to my bare breasts then back to my face and he swallows.

"Bella …" It's barely a whisper. He tenses as my hands travel further up his thighs.

I slowly run them up to his waist. My fingers curl under the band of his sweatpants. I tug and he automatically lifts his hips, letting me slide them off to discard them beside me.

Sitting back on my heels, I take him in. His lidded eyes emit a hesitant sense of need. His breath quickens, the pads of his fingers sinking into the leather beneath them. The rest of him stays perfectly still as if any sudden movement might scare me off.

My eyes flicker to where his erection rests on his lower stomach. It twitches with anticipation. My hands cover his knees again. I dip them down his inner thighs then back up again, rising to my knees. Bending at the waist, I graze his hard on with the center of my chest.

Edward rubs his erection between my breasts as I kiss and lick my way from his chest, down to his stomach, leaving him frictionless where he most needs it.

Edward curses under his breath as my mouth leaves him and my hands slide farther up his thighs. I dip my thumbs under his balls and massage the sensitive skin just behind them lightly until precum leaks from the tip of his cock and he's nearly writhing.

Licking my lips, I lower my mouth, looking him in the eye as my tongue darts out to taste him. I wrap my lips around the head. He fights the lids of his eyes as I take him deeper down my throat.

"Shit, Bella."

Losing the battle, his eyes close. He thrusts upward, gagging me a little, and he groans. The sound shoots straight to my core and I moan, taking him as deep as I can before swallowing around him.

"Oh …"

Prying his fingers from the leather couch, Edward touches the edge of my mouth, feeling himself slide in and out of it. He puts the other hand on the back of my head, helping me bob up and down the way he wants it.

Holding my head in place, he rocks into my throat. I massage his thighs and moan around him, swallowing hard when he stimulates my gag reflex.

"Uh, fu—I ..." His hips pump in short, quick succession. He moans in throaty warning, his thighs tensing under my fingers. His fingers tangle in my hair, pushing himself a little deeper, and he suddenly stills, coming down the back of my throat.

When he releases my hair, I come up for air and he apologizes, trying to catch his breath.

Wiping my lips clean, I shake my head. I'm beyond turned on, hurriedly crawling up his body to straddle his lap. My mouth latches onto his in a hard, needy kiss. His warm hands land on my hips. His lips spread open, allowing me to sweep my tongue over his and show him how he tastes.

I get the feeling he likes it when he leans forward, wrapping his arms around my waist, all caught up in a hazy haste.

I'm beginning to think being holed up in this shitty old house won't be so bad after all.

* * *

Im hoping to finish this story by the middle of February because I'm planning on going back to school. Wish me luck :x


	26. Chapter 26

Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own.

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

Warm skin touches mine, waking me from a light sleep. His palm slides up my inner thigh to the bend of my hip and I open my legs, welcoming his touch.

The last twenty-four hours have been a blur of touches, tangled limbs and tongues, little sleep. I've pretty much lost track of time, trying not to freak out and I'm doing a damn good job of it. All I have to do is focus on Edward and how he feels, how we feel together.

He palms my center, teasing my entrance with his middle finger. I whimper and he slides it in, muffling my moan with his mouth.

I'm sore but refuse to tell him. Somehow, it feels worse when he's not touching me.

Without leaving my mouth, he rises to his knees and crawls between mine. He adds pressure with the heel of his palm just above where he's fingering me and I moan again, only this time in pleasure.

His lips leave to lazily kiss down my neck and chest then latch onto my nipple. I hiss when he sucks it into his mouth. After letting it go, he licks the other before pulling it into his mouth too.

I writhe beneath him, almost there but not quite yet.

My breaths are coming out in short pants. The room spins and I feel dizzy, lightheaded as his mouth travels farther down, past my belly button.

He positions himself on his stomach at the bottom of the bed. His mouth hovers over the juncture of my thighs, his hot breath a cruel tease as he continues to slowly finger me.

I close my eyes, covering them with the back of my arm and gripping the sheets with my other hand, sucking in a sharp breath when his lips finally touch me.

He chastely kisses above my entrance, pulling back after each soft peck until I think I might go insane.

It makes his tongue all that much more satisfying when it flicks out to taste me.

That one taste is all it takes and his mouth is on me, hot and wet and oh so good. He switches from fast to slow, bringing me to the brink before he takes it away.

I groan, reaching down to grab the back of his head and finding him smirking.

He lets me pull him back down to me, flattening his tongue so I can move against it.

He starts to move with me and I suck in a sharp breath, my orgasm racing back tenfold once he picks up the pace.

There's so much pressure I'm about to burst, then I do, underneath his mouth, jerking through wave after wave of aftershock.

My head falls to the bed and my eyes fuse shut. It's physically impossible to open them until Edward crawls up my body and flops on his side, removing a stray hair from my face.

"You're so beautiful." His gaze roams over my face. His thumb sweeps over my lower lip. "You feel so good. It's unbelievable how good you feel."

I shift to face him, my hand sneaking under his arm to wrap around his back. "I know what you mean." I hum and close my eyes.

"You taste good too." He lips touch mine, his tongue poking out to give me a sample. If I'm being honest, I don't get the attraction but I suppose I taste as good to him as he does to me, so I don't question it.

Besides, I've got other things on my mind now.

"Have you heard back from your captain?"

He shakes his head. "Nope, nada. Can't even get through to the station." His brows crease, his eyes watching the pads of his fingers dance across my skin.

"Weird."

"Yeah."

He's been worrying but acting as if he's not. At first, I could sense it. Now I can see it in his eyes.

"Maybe we should leave and go there," I suggest, wondering if it would be the worst thing. Laurie's been MIA. We're running out of food and there's no way I'm eating tuna.

"I don't know. Maybe you're right." He lets out an audible breath. "I say we stay here 'til morning though. It's late and I'm tired."

I agree with a yawn. "I'm not even sure I can walk yet."

This pleases Edward. He gives me a lazy smile, leaning in as I pull myself closer. He kisses my cheek then nuzzles it with his three-day-old scruff. It makes me squeal and burrow my head into his neck where he can't get me and I'll gladly stay the rest of the night. It doesn't take us long to pass out in each other's arms.

I wake with a jerk in the middle of the night as if I heard a loud noise. Lifting my head, I look behind me then out into the living room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Convinced it was my dream, I snuggle back into Edward's side as the premise of every horror movie I've ever watched runs through my mind. It had to have been a ghost. No, it was a demon getting ready to possess my body. Oh my God. What if I were still dreaming and Freddy Krueger was about to get me?

Try as I might, I can't fall back to sleep. I try something I read in an article a while back, blinking rapidly for a whole minute to tire my eyes. It kind of works but my bladder ruins it.

Sighing, I roll to my back and throw off the covers, grabbing one of Edward's T-shirts off the floor on my way to the bathroom.

The streetlights glow against the blinds, giving me enough light so I can see where I'm going. But the bathroom light nearly blinds me when I flip it on. I can't see anything on my way back to the bedroom. My hands guide the way to the couch and I follow the back of it, slowing when a strange feeling comes over me. I stop, swinging my arm out into the darkness to meet air.

That strange feeling only worsens the longer I stand there. I wish like hell I'd woken Edward to come with me. There's nowhere I'd rather be than by his side, safe and sound. I hear him lightly snoring in the next room over. It helps me collect my bearings and head in the right direction.

I'm nearly there when the floor creaks behind me. Before I can look back somebody grabs me from behind. I get them good with an elbow to the ribs but they're strong, really strong, and get their arms around me with no problem. My head flies back, hitting their shoulder instead of their face. I get out one good scream that wakes Edward. He sits straight up, grabbing his gun as the one at my temple silences me.

"Put down the gun," the guy holding me captive says.

Edward holds up his other hand. "Okay, okay. I'm putting it down." He slowly lowers it to the bedside table and raises his hands back up in front of him.

"Just let her go. It's me you want."

The guy chuckles. "It's not that simple. You know that."

The guy steps back in the direction of the door.

"Wait!" Edward's stands up at the side of the bed.

"Sit down!" the guy screams in my ear, pointing the gun at Edward. I flinch away and he puts it back to my temple.

"There's gotta be something we can do. Something you want," Edward pleads.

"I got all I need." He rubs the side of his face against mine. I cringe and he laughs, pulling me back toward the door again.

Edward goes to step forward but stops himself. "Please. Just think about this. I know Marcus doesn't pay you enough. Not to support that habit."

"I'm set for life after this. Probably won't live that much longer anyway."

"I can get you more. Sell what you don't use." Edward shrugs as if it's that easy. "You can live like a king 'til that day comes. Think about it."

The guy remains silent and still. I assume he's considering Edward's offer.

"Marcus'll kill me."

"Not if he can't find you."

The guy goes quiet again. There's a sharp thud and the guy drops the gun, slumping forward. I move to the side as the guy falls to the ground and look behind me.

"Dad?" I can't believe my eyes. They well up with tears. "Daddy?" I ask again, jumping up and wrapping my arms around his neck. I cling to him, shaking like a leaf on a tree. His arms close around me. He holds me up, my legs dangling like he used to do when I was little.

The breeze from the open door reminds me I'm not fully dressed. I let go so he drops me, making sure I'm covered, then wipe the tears from my cheeks. "What are you doing here? How did you know where to find us?" I ask, trying to get my bearings and stop fucking crying as Edward swoops by us to cuff the asshole who had me held at gunpoint.

"Wasn't that hard." He scowls over my shoulder at Edward. "You want to put a shirt on, son? And you. You go get some bottoms," he says, officially mortifying me. "Then you both meet me out here." Dad closes the front door then heads into the living room.

I grab Edward's arm then rush into the bedroom, closing the door behind us. I whisper an apology as I pull on a pair of leggings and rip off Edward's shirt, throwing it at him once I find mine tangled in the sheets. Edward seems to be flustered, struggling with his shirt. I practically have to help him when he tries to put it on backward.

"Hey, you okay?" I ask.

Edward looks up at me, his eyes slightly widened. "That's your dad out there. Your dad. We're both half-naked. You were wearing my shirt and nothing else. I could see your bare ass while you were hugging him."

"I know." Jesus, do I know. "I'm sorry. I had no idea he was going to show up here." How could I?

"So you didn't call him?"

"No!" I whisper yell. "You told me not to, so I didn't. I have no idea how he found out."

Edward's clearly frustrated and just as uncomfortable with the situation as I am. Rubbing his hands slowly over his face, he quietly groans and then rakes them through his hair. "Okay, I guess I'm ready. Let's go."

We enter the living room slowly and quietly. My dad points to the couch and we sit. He tosses a folder full of papers at Edward. With quick reflexes, he catches it.

"Edward Anthony Masen. Second son of Elizabeth Mason. Father unknown." I look over at Edward who's looking through the folder. My dad knows everything, probably more than me. That Edward's a cop, how long he's been undercover, what properties he owns. He even has a credit report.

"How do you even know who he is and that I was with him?" I ask, somewhat peeved even though he pretty much just saved my life.

"Jasper called." He puts his hands on his hips. "Said you brought some guy by the shop and he was worried about you. Looks like he had every reason to be." I can't stand it when he puts his hands on his hips. It makes him seem even more arrogant for being the hero of the day.

"Not only did I find out where you are, I found that mobster you're looking for."

Mobster.

What is this? Nineteen-twenties New York?

"Marcus? You found Marcus?" Edward asks, looking up from the papers.

My dad nods to the ground. "Yep. And the guy who blew your cover too."

Edward regards my dad then flips through a few more pages. Coming to a stop, he grips the folder, his nostrils flaring.

"That motherfu—" He restrains himself from cussing in front of my dad, shaking his head instead.

Curious, I lean over then look up at Edward. I place my hand on his forearm before addressing my dad. "Are you sure it's him?"

He nods once.

"You're positive? The picture's kind of blurry. I mean, it could be anybody," I try to reason, but Edward stops me.

"That's him, Bella. We met with him the day he was wearing that. Look at the date. No doubt, that's Laurie. And the guy with him is Kai, Marcus' right-hand man."

"Mmhm. Got it off of a surveillance camera," Dad pipes in.

There's a groan from behind the couch. Dad casually walks back there and clocks Marcus' guy to knock him out again.

"Somehow this friend of yours blocked your number from not only your captain's cell but the precinct itself. I'm assuming you haven't been able to get through or you would have contacted them by now."

Edward nods.

"Yeah well, Kai's still around town but Marcus left for Italy three days ago. He's traveling under the alias Aro Volturi. He's got a safe deposit box full of passports, each with a different identity."

Edward flips through all the photos of passports my dad somehow snapped.

Is there anything he can't do?

"He's staying at the Bettoja Hotel Mediterraneo." Dad butchers the name but there's an itinerary in the folder as well, so we know what he's talking about. "He'll be there through Sunday." Shrugging, he scratches his 'stache. "And I'm not leaving him out there when he's out for my baby girl. So, you comin'? Either way, I'm goin'."

I look from him to Edward, Edward to him. He can't be serious.

"Even if we find him, we've got no jurisdiction," Edward reasons.

Dad smirks. "I've got friends in high places, son. You don't need to worry about that."

Edward's quiet, staring down at his lap before looking up at me. He holds my stare as he speaks. "It'll be dangerous." Then he looks up at Dad. "He'll fight. His men will fight. They've died for less."

"I don't doubt it."

I swallow the lump in my throat, my eyes still on Edward.

He nods.

"Okay, then. I guess we're doing this." Edward slaps his lap then stands, holding out a hand to my father.

I jump up before he has time to shake it. "Wait." I can't believe I'm doing this. "Dad, what you know about Edward is just on these pages. But I know him. I love him." I see Edward's head jerk to look at my profile. I glance at his questioning face then back at my dad. It may have been the wrong time but I had to say it. "I can't let him go until you promise me he'll make it back alive. That you both will."

I feel Edward's hand brush against mine. I grab it, looking down as we clasp them together then back up at him.

The crease in his brow lightens, the straight line of his mouth turning up into a slight smile. His gaze drops to my lips then rises to my eyes again.

I wonder if he wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him. But that's out of the question when my dad clears his throat. We break eye contact to look at him.

"You know I can't—"

"Promise."

He won't look me in the eye when he does. Even though I know it's empty, I let them shake on it.

In no time, they're down to business, planning flights and hotel arrangements but most importantly, their plan of attack.

I put up a fight when they refuse to take me along, arguing I'd be safer if I was with them.

Edward tries to plead. Dad attempts to overthrow my decision with his ineffective scare tactics. I hold my ground, winning over Edward in the end.

Dad's furious with both of us by the time he leaves, letting us know somebody will be by to pick up the guy knocked out on the floor before stomping out with a disapproving huff.

The next time I see him we're boarding the plane.


	27. Chapter 27

Betad by kitchmill. Mistakes are my own. Some added/changed after.

Preread by Hoodie

* * *

I'm way more excited than I should be for this trip to Italy, considering. I've never been out of the country before. But it's not like it's for pleasure since all our lives are on the line.

My excitement turns to straight-up dread once the plane starts to move. It doesn't matter how many times I've flown; I'll never get used to take off. Never. Only this time, I have someone's hand to hold. If only I can just let go of the armrest.

Sensing my distress, Edward pries my fingers off one by one and tangles them with his. It doesn't help. Even when I squeeze as hard as I can.

"So, tell me what your professors had to say about you missing class." Edward attempts to distract me as the plane increases its speed down the runway.

"As long as we're back by Monday, I'll only miss Art History. My teacher was actually pretty excited about it. She gave me a few locations that I just have to go see," I say mockingly and smile over at Edward before continuing. "She said I could pick one of the places and write a five hundred-word paper for extra credit since I'll be missing a small portion of lecture that will be on the final."

"That was very progressive of her."

"Mm, that's what I love most about her. Her progressiveness."

Looking out the window, I see we're safely up in the air, creeping closer and closer to that country shaped like a boot. And I realize having Edward here did help after all.

The dread eventually fades and leaves me drained. Dad's already snoring from the row behind us, which makes it hard to relax. But before I know it, Edward's waking me to let me know we're about to land. It's really sweet how he remembered it's my absolute favorite part.

I hold his hand for the pleasure of it this time. My smile makes him smile. But not my dad. His mouth curves down in a perma-frown. I roll my eyes, turning back to look out the window again.

Dad leads the way off the plane. Edward guides me so I can take it all in without really paying attention to where I'm going because I'm in fucking Italy. Even the airport feels like a work of art with its arched skylight and euro modern lines.

We step outside and the sun shines brighter. It smells just like every other big city I've ever been to but better. I almost appreciate our taxi's exhaust blowing in my face. It's not offensive at all. I'm in fucking Italy.

Vespas whiz by, their drivers beeping and whistling, yelling out, "Ciao Bella!" The European version of a catcall. The men on the streets turn their heads as they pass, lowering their glasses in a gratuitous show of interest by shamelessly looking me up and down.

For the most part Edward ignores it. He lets go of my hand and puts his arm around my waist, his fingers tightening as he pulls me into his side. I like this possessive side of him. Happy to let them look but making it clear they can't touch.

Dad takes a separate cab from us, the plan being he doesn't know who we are. We're not together.

Our driver is just as bad as the randos out on the street. He gets out to grab our bags and opens the door, his mustached smile directed at me. He reaches out for my hand and I oblige with a thank you, scooting over to make room for Edward.

When we're all buckled in and ready to go, he adjusts his rear view mirror so he can periodically glance at me. The whole experience is completely unreal.

Ignoring his stares, my head whips from side to side as we fly down the streets. I'm dizzy, trying to see all that I can by the time we pull up to the hotel.

The driver jumps out to open my door then grabs our bags, leaving me with a kiss to the top of my hand to remember him by. Once he drives away, I wipe it off on my pants.

"Strange city. Beautiful but strange."

"What makes you say that?" Edward asks, I give him a questioning look.

"All this attention. I never get this back home."

Edward huffs a laugh. "Believe me, you get plenty of this in Chicago. They're just not as obvious about it is all."

I contemplate that as Edward leads me inside the hotel lobby, taking care of everything so I can study the pieces hanging on the gold and white marble walls. Every painting contains a pop of red, adding a richness to the otherwise cold and linear interior.

"I find it all so fascinating," I think out loud when Edward approaches me from behind. Dropping our bags, he wraps his arms around my waist.

"What's that?" he asks, resting his chin in the crook of my neck.

"The colors. You notice how every piece has a splash of red?"

Edward lifts his head to look around then sets it back down on my shoulder. "Now I do."

"Well, the Greeks and Romans used to dye their clothing. Red and purple was reserved for nobles because they were expensive to manufacture."

Edward stays quiet, ready to listen to whatever I have to say.

"The choices are brilliant and I bet ninety-nine percent of the guests that come through here have no idea."

Edward nuzzles the side of my neck, whispering against it. "That's another reason I love you. You're observant and adorably passionate. What do you say we take this passion upstairs to our room?"

I smile, tilting my head into his then turn in his arms and give him a chaste kiss. "Okay. Lead the way."

When we step inside the elevator, I crowd Edward up against the wall, tugging on his T-shirt to get him to bend down so I can kiss him for real this time.

He lightly laughs against my eager mouth, cradling my jaw in his hands before pulling back. His eyes are full of contagious mirth. Or maybe it's mine that's infected him.

I shouldn't be this excited. But I am. I can't help it.

I'm in fucking Italy.

We clumsily make our way down the hall and into our room, throwing our crap on the floor before tumbling into the bed.

It's a mess of frantic limbs and flying clothes until he's on me and then in me. I don't even care that the curtains are wide open for everyone to see.

I'm in fucking Italy.

...

I wake up later to warmth in the center of my bare chest. Reaching up, I feel Edward's soft hair beneath my fingers. His breath blows across my skin between his soft kisses.

"You finally awake?" he asks.

I hum, opening my eyes to the setting sun. The balcony window is open, the gauzy white curtains blowing in the breeze.

For a moment, I'm confused of where I am. But then I look around at the pops of purple in the paintings on the walls and I remember.

I'm in fucking Italy.

"I was beginning to think you were gonna sleep the whole time we're here."

"Mm, never."

Placing one last kiss between my breasts, he rises to his knees then climbs off the bed. I sit up when he grabs a white box with a red bow from the table and tosses it onto the bed in front of me.

"What's this?" I ask.

He smirks. "Open it and find out."

Italy and a gift?

Well, aren't I just the luckiest girl in the world?

I give him a rueful smile then untie the bow and lift up the top, sucking in a sharp breath when I see what's inside.

"Oh my God. Edward …" Sliding my fingers through the thin straps, I lift the long, silky, black dress out of the box and stand to hold it in front of me.

"Do you like it?"

"Are you kidding? I love it. But when am I ever going to wear it?" My practical side rears its practical head.

"Around."

"Around?"

He shrugs, sitting on the end of the bed. "I thought maybe you'd want to have dinner, with me. Or we can skip dinner and I can rip this impractical thing off you." Tugging the dress from my grip, Edward scoots closer, placing a kiss on my bare stomach.

My brow quirks. "Can't we do both?"

He moans against me, and it vibrates straight to my core. Nipping my side, he stands, his hands still on my hips. "You want the shower first?"

I shake my head. "I want the shower at the same time." I lightly pinch his butt then give him a little love tap. "Come on. Let's go."

Making out naked and wet has to be the most amazing thing in the world. My skin glides so easily over his, cool but also warm at the same time. My senses are on overload. My head swims whenever his tongue slides firmly across mine, again and again. They twist and tumble, taking and tasting until my lips are numbed from the rough ends of his stubble.

He's hardened against my lower stomach. Wrapping my hand around the base, I lightly stroke him up and down.

He backs me up against the shower wall and I suck in a sharp breath when I hit the cold porcelain. Hooking an arm under my thigh, he lifts my leg. I line him up with my entrance, moaning into his mouth as it covers mine and he slowly sinks into me.

It's highly unlikely I'm going to orgasm but I don't care. I'm satisfied with just making him feel good.

His mouth leaves mine and I open my eyes to watch him watching where we meet. His biceps flex in my periphery. I look down just as his abdomen tightens. He comes silently, pushing in then pulling out just before kissing me. His lips move to my neck then the tops of my breasts. I push lightly on his shoulders, stopping him.

"Later. I'm starving." I step out to wipe off and lightly dry my hair. I want a nice, natural wave to go with my new dress. I wasn't planning on dressing up so I'm not really prepared. It's a lot less material than I'm used to wearing. It calls for a strapless bra, which I don't have ...

Fuck it. I'm in Italy.

I pull it on sans bra and panties. The silk glides over my skin and it feels like heaven.

Dabbing on a bit of mascara, I turn from the mirror, finding Edward standing there in a pair of black slacks and a black button-up. He's incredibly suave and breathtakingly handsome. He's looking at me like I don't look too bad myself.

"Jesus. You look amazing." He comes over to stand in front of me. "You're so beautiful. What are you doing here with somebody like me?" The tips of his fingers run along the deep V of the dress.

Is he kidding?

"I could ask you the same thing." I run my fingers through his hair then flatten my hands against his collar before wrapping my arms around his neck.

His arms go around my waist and we're right back where we were, distracted by each other's lips again.

"Okay, okay, okay. Later. I'm hungry!" I pry myself from his arms and grab the black sandals from my bag just when there's a knock at the door.

Rushing past me, Edward checks the peep hole then opens the door to let a hotel staffer usher a cart of room service into our room.

He greets us formally, whipping out a white tablecloth to cover the small, round hotel table. He quickly sets the plates at opposite sides, pops open a bottle of champagne, then places a gold candlestick in the center of the table and lights the wick.

"Buon appetito."

"Grazie," Edward thanks him in Italian. "E perfetto." And my brain has officially turned to mush.

Bowing, the staffer leaves us but not before looking me up and down. And here I thought I'd found the one gentleman in this country.

Edward pulls out my chair for me then pours me a glass of champagne before sitting himself.

"I know it's not what you were expecting. You deserve to be taken out and shown off. You look so beautiful." He looks me up and down again then meets my eyes. "I wanted to take you out and one day I will, I swear. It's just not safe out there yet."

Reaching out, I touch his forearm. "E perfetto," I assure him, giving it a squeeze.

He smirks shyly, placing a hand on mine, and lightly runs his thumb back and forth over my knuckles.

"Sei perfetto."

I warm all over, no longer hungry for the food in front of us, but for Edward himself. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. It's the sweetest, sexiest thing anyone's ever said. And not just because it was in Italian.

Rising from my seat, I stand in front of him. Slowly, I bunch up the bottom of the dress to my hips. Edward swallows, leaning back in his chair when I go to straddle his lap. His hands palm my outer thighs then slide under my ass to pull me closer. I lean in to kiss him just as there's another knock at the door. I groan into Edward's mouth then climb off him so he can answer.

My dad's standing on the other side. "Change of plans. Marcus is on the move. Grab your gun and let's go."

* * *

Buon Appetito: Enjoy your meal

Grazie: Thank you

E perfetto: It's perfect

Sei perfetto: You're perfect


End file.
